


Beyond the Dark Horizon

by turps



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knowing the authorities would never allow them to be together, Gerard and Mikey took the only option left to them and ran. They've spent years travelling between planets with only minimal supplies and two space bikes to their name, all the while knowing that if they get caught they'll be shipped back to Earth and separated for ever.</p>
<p>It's a risk that's working well for them, until the day Mikey gets hit by a shot from a blaster. With his brother dangerously ill, Gerard has never felt so helpless and alone. Afraid, sure he's doing the wrong thing but unable to think of an alternative, Gerard leaves Mikey and sets off to find Toro, a legendary medic operating out of zone eight. It's a journey that not only provides a way to save Mikey's life, but one that allows Gerard to discover that, no matter what he thinks, sometimes people do understand, and that home is the place that you make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Dark Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, themoononastick, who went above and beyond to check this over for me and ensure I could post on time.
> 
> Thank you to the people who cheered me on and supported me while trying to get this story finished.
> 
> Thank you to the bbb mods for their understanding when I needed a very late posting date to finish.
> 
> Finally, thank you to Turlough, who created beautiful art work for the story which you can see [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/949073). If you like it, please leave a comment saying so.

Gerard crouches, one knee in the dust and his eyes narrowed against the bright sun as he pretends to look in his backpack. Close by, Mikey’s resting against his bike, his hip cocked and sunglasses hiding half of his face. He’s looking toward the gates that lead to the port, and specifically a trade wagon; one that looks empty of cargo and is being worked by a steerer who obviously wants to be anywhere but loading wagons onto the dock.

Arm resting on the frame of the open window, the steerer maneuvers with quick, easy bursts, edging the wagon towards the maglines that stretch into the distance in shimmering straight lines. Which means, they’ve got a few minutes at most. Once the wagon’s attached there’ll be no getting inside, and Gerard indicates the wagon with a nod of his head and says, “That one?”

“That one,” Mikey agrees, and pushes himself upright. Running his hand over his pocket he looks over at Gerard. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Gerard says instantly, not that Mikey will need it. They’ve been doing this for a long time now, enough that it’s easy to work out the best targets and who should approach them. This steerer is an obvious old timer, zirs face deeply-lined and expression set, and while in time, Gerard’s friendly demeanor and tall stories would have broken the ice, time is one thing they’re lacking. That’s why Mikey’s taking the direct route, and Gerard keeps watch, one hand on his blaster as Mikey slips through the gate.

Despite the lack of visible security or guards, Gerard remains tense. While this is one of the lesser ports, used more for hauling produce than tech, it still doesn’t mean what they’re doing is legal. Technically Mikey could be arrested as soon as he steps foot through the gates, but that’s something that won’t happen, not when the next guard pass shouldn’t happen for over an hour.

Still, Gerard’s prepared to shoot if needed, and he never looks away as Mikey keeps walking. From here it’s impossible to hear what Mikey is saying when he reaches the cab of the wagon. Between the whir of the maglines and buzz of the refueling pods, it’s like the whole area is bathed in white noise. But it’s okay, Gerard doesn’t have to hear, and he matches masked words to Mikey’s movements -- his greeting as he saunters close. The way he stretches up, almost on tiptoes as he makes an offer, business-like always. The way he smiles and drops down, taking a small packet out of his pocket and transferring it stealthily into the steerer’s clawed hand.

Relieved that the approach and trade is over, Gerard stands and shoulders his backpack, already holding the handles of his bike when Mikey walks close. “Zie’ll take us?” 

“One bag of shimmer and zie’ll look the other way,” Mikey says. Unhooking his backpack from the back of his bike he loops it over his shoulder. “Wagon’s returning empty and booked for a sundown blast spot heading for the Oetrak zone.”

If they had options, the Oetrak zone wouldn’t be Gerard’s first choice. Or his second, or his hundredth in fact. But, the harsh facts are, they don’t _have_ a choice, and right now, they need to get off of this planet. “At least it’s warm there.”

“Because we’ve been freezing this last month,” Mikey says, dust billowing up around his feet as he starts walking, his steps shortened due to pushing his bike. “I’m starting to fantasize about iced coffees.”

“I’ll break out the emergency pouches when we get inside.” It’s the best that Gerard can do right now, and he tries to remember how many dehydrated coffee cubes he has in his bag. Not that many if he’s remembering correctly, and yet again, Gerard tells himself that soon, they’ll jump to a planet that imports actual Earth produce.

“Coffee cubes and somewhere to sleep.” Mikey looks over his shoulder, tension apparent in the tight line of his mouth, as if, even now he expects to see yet another following stealth craft. “Fucking planet, I’ll be glad to get off-world.”

“You and me both,” Gerard says, and starts to move faster, matching his pace to the wagon that’s slowed as it approaches the start of the magline, the open back door already starting to roll closed from the top. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Mikey says in response, and as one, they run forward, hauling up the front of their bikes at the last moment so they can jump into the back of the wagon. Each time, it’s something that makes Gerard feel nervous. While the jump isn’t a big one, there’s always the chance of mistiming, which isn’t so bad if you fall back, but so often Gerard’s heard of people falling off to the side, something that could easily result in bad burns if they’re pulled into the maglines. 

Not this time, though, and momentum keeps Gerard running forward, safe inside the wagon as the door draws down fully, engaging the seal, the bright light from outside replaced by sudden total darkness.

“Mikey?” Gerard pulls a light cube from out of his pocket, holding it up with one hand so he can see that Mikey’s safely inside, too. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Mikey says, and sets down his bike, engaging the security locks so it’ll remain steady in place through the inevitable bumps of off-planet travel. “Only four days to go.”

Four days, a lot of sleeping on the hard floor and surviving in semi darkness yet again. By now, it’s something they’ve done often, and while they’ll cope -- they always do -- Gerard can’t help wishing yet again that things would be different. “One time we’ll travel with a bedseat, or in stasis.” 

Mikey looks up from where he’s rummaging in his bag, his face half in shadow but grin apparent. “And miss using the urine collection bags and sucking on concentrated food cubes?”

“Well, there is that. I do like the magic of drinking my own piss,” Gerard says, and can’t resist grinning back in Mikey’s direction. “Want to pick the corner we’re going to sleep in?”

Mikey stands, still smiling when he says, “You’re all heart.”

“And you know it,” Gerard replies, and knows, no matter how sucky travelling like this is, he’d do it forever if it meant Mikey could remain at his side.

~*~*~*~

After being confined in the wagon so long, the last thing Gerard wants to do is stay still. Hands pressed close to his body, he listens to the clanks of the magline engaging, and more distant, the sound of somebody shouting out what could be orders. Right now they’re words that mean nothing, Gerard’s comm chip long gone and while he’s picked up a few words in several languages while running, these ones mean nothing. 

“Can you hear anything?” Mikey asks. He’s straddling his bike, hand on the starter, and looking more alive than he has done for days. Not that that’s surprising. As cool as travelling the galaxies can be, the reality is, unless you’ve got your own ship or can pay for a spot on a passenger liner, travelling usually means being hitching in an empty, sealed box.

“Maglines have engaged, we’ll be arriving soon,” Gerard says, and bounces on the balls of his feet. After being inactive for so long, the rush of adrenalin he’s riding now is heady, and all Gerard wants is to get on his bike and _go_. 

But not yet. While getting onto the wagons is relatively easy, it’s getting away at the other end that’s the issue. Even if planet border controls have been eased for in-galaxy travel, that doesn’t mean travelers can arrive without being processed, and that’s something Gerard and Mikey need to avoid at all costs. Anxiety starting to rise, Gerard takes his light cube out of his pocket and looks around the wagon, double checking they’ve packed up all of their supplies. His footsteps echoing, he takes a last circuit and then goes back to the bikes, where Mikey is patiently waiting.

“We’ve got everything.” Mikey runs his fingers under the straps of his bag, making it sit more comfortably and then sits back on his bike, his attention solely on Gerard. “We’ll be okay. They haven’t caught us yet.”

Gerard wants to say there’s always a first time, but he won’t. Because a first time would also mean a self-inflicted last time, that’s something they agreed a long time before. No way is Gerard about to lose Mikey now, not when they’ve fought so hard to stay together. 

“They’ll never catch us,” Gerard says, and steps close to Mikey. This close the light cube bleaches the color from his skin, and Mikey’s eyes look deeply shadowed, pools of darkness that bleed down to his cheekbones. He’s all stark lines and skin pulled tight from not eating enough while hitching -- and so beautiful that Gerard needs to touch.

Gerard reaches up, his hand curled and fingers resting against Mikey’s cheek. 

“Your timing sucks,” Mikey says, moving into the touch. 

“I know.” And Gerard does, they should be getting ready for yet another escape, but as far as Gerard’s concerned, this is as important as making sure both bikes are ready and their belongings are gathered up. This is a connection on a level they both need, a reminder of why they do this, and, as much as Gerard doesn’t want to think it, a goodbye if things go wrong. 

Moving his hand, Gerard rests his fingers against Mikey’s neck, feeling the way he swallows and pulls in a breath as Gerard pushes close. It’s a reaction that Gerard loves, that after all of this time Mikey still wants him so badly. Clutching the light cube in his free hand, Gerard watches as shadows flit across Mikey’s face, his eyelashes dark as he blinks, the way he’s looking at Gerard like, right now, he’s the only thing that exists in all of the galaxies. 

“We need to get ready,” Gerard says, reminding himself along with Mikey. Even so, he can’t seem to pull back, and is unable to resist moving in for a kiss. It’s nothing that lasts long, just Gerard pressing his mouth against Mikey’s, a kiss that’s dry-mouthed and fleeting, but made intimate in the way they breathe as one, sharing the same air.

It’s Mikey that reluctantly ends it as he moves away and says simply, “They’ll be here soon.”

He’s right, the guards will be here soon, with their scanners and restraints at the ready in case they find any hitchers. All Gerard can hope is, like so many times before, these guards are the kind that have become resentful or lazy due to working the minor space-ports.

Straddling his bike, Gerard clutches the handles, his thumb on the starter, and waits for the hiss of the door seal being opened -- the first glimpse of light, the first sighting of guards outside looking in.

Then, and only then, will Gerard and Mikey be able to go. Engines started and wheels squealing as they burst out of the wagon and freedom.

At least. That’s the hope.

~*~*~*~

“Fuck yeah, motherfuckers. You’ll never take us!” Gerard tastes the dry air as he yells, dust coating his tongue and his hair whipping around his face as he looks over his shoulder toward the chaotic scenes at the port. From here it’s just a smudge on a desolate landscape, lights flashing at points and the hover cruisers remaining inside of the gates.

Not that they got out easy. Gerard can feel his thigh burning, the fabric of his pants scorched by a stray blaster shot and he’s going to have to repaint the side of his bike after it took a direct hit -- but one thankfully not on the rechargers, or Gerard wouldn’t be here now.

“Did you see that Cardasha guard? He nearly took me out.” Gerard shouts the words as he speeds up a little and rides next to Mikey. From here he can feel the tiny stones being thrown up by Mikey’s wheels and sees the way he’s grinning, caught up in the exhilaration of another escape.

“He was fucking brutal.” Mikey looks to the side, his grin widening. “And so was your riding. A 180 turn on the spot followed by jumping the maglines. Fuck, Gee. That was awesome.”

“Almost as awesome as you taking out that guard with a kick to the tentacles,” Gerard says, and he loves these moments, when he and Mikey have got away safely and have a new planet to explore. Within reason of course. They’re not about to go to any public events soon, but after arranging some new ID, there’s no reason they can’t stay for a while. “Race you to the nearest city?”

Grin still in place, Mikey responds by upping his speed, Gerard instantly doing the same, as, together they keep riding.

~*~*~*~

As port cities go, this one is typical, enough that even before reaching the outskirts Gerard knows what he’ll see. Low cost sleep rooms, bars and restaurants set alongside pleasure zones, and overall an air of neglect that comes along with being close to such a minor space port and its transient population. 

Which is just how Gerard likes it. In places like this no one asks questions. He slows down, cruising the streets alongside Mikey as they look for somewhere to stay. 

“That one?” Gerard indicates a building advertising sleep rooms, ones that are apparently low cost and accessible to all species. It’s one of many such buildings, but Gerard likes how this one has actual windows and spaces for vehicles right outside of the rooms, something that’s needed when their bikes are so vitally important.

“Looks good to me,” Mikey says, and Gerard pulls ahead, hearing Mikey right behind him when Gerard turns toward the building, stopping outside of the main lobby. “I’ll watch the bikes.”

“Okay.” Surprised, Gerard looks toward Mikey, who normally at this time would be already parked up and wanting to check out their new surroundings. Right now though, he’s sitting back on his bike, feet down for stability and looking like he’s not about to move anytime soon. 

“Don’t let them charge you too much,” Mikey says, frowning as he looks at the holo sign that flickers over the entrance to the parking lot. “And don’t get a room next to the bogbios, those things reek.”

Gerard gets off of his bike and takes off his bag, enjoying the feel of fresh air against his sweat-damp back. Looking in his bag, he rummages inside the hidden pocket and takes out a handful of universal credits, currency that they keep for situations like this. Hopefully there’s enough for a couple of days stay, and the time they’ll need to sort out local currency and ID. If not, well, Gerard’s bartered before, and he’s willing to do so again. 

Credits shoved into his pockets, Gerard looks at Mikey once again, the slight worry that had taken hold receding when Mikey flashes a smile. “Go on. Or have you lost your touch?”

“For that I’m going for a deluxe room,” Gerard says, not that deluxe will mean much here. Maybe an extra pillow or at most, a view overlooking the dust planes that seemingly stretch out forever, surrounding the city. Though, what Gerard wants most at the moment is a long shower, something to eat and then a bed that’s more than a blanket stretched out on the floor. 

Those goals in mind, he goes inside, walking slowly so he can scope out the lobby. As expected, it’s nothing special, yet another example of the generic booking-in lobby that’s prevalent in humanoid heavy populations. A variety of seating places are close to the window and a console that scrolls news for the planet is attached to a wall. There’s also a desk with a visible communication unit, but right now it’s empty, Gerard having to wait through two descriptions of crop blight, and a riot in sector eight before someone finally appears.

“Rooms are two credits sunset to sunset. Hydration comes as standard but it’s an extra credit if you need a room seal. I don’t care who’s in the room, what you do or why you do it, but if there’s any damage it’s an extra ten credits daily. Take it or leave it. I don’t care.” The clerk slaps a flipper against the counter, whiskers twitching as zie demands, “Well?”

“One credit.” It’s a risk Gerard’s willing to take, especially as, since he’s been here he’s seen no other guests. “Credits up front and no special accommodations needed.”

“One and a half.” The clerk leans over the desk and stares directly at Gerard. “Give me the credits now and I’ll give you a room no ID asked.”

“Done.” It’s a deal Gerard isn’t about to turn down and he takes the credits out of his pocket, laying them down on the desk. “I want a room next to the parking lot and a king size bed.”

“What are you, a mamooth?” The clerk says, honking laughter as if zie’s just cracked a side-splitting joke. “You’ll get a double and like it.”

“Fine,” Gerard says, taking the card the clerk hands over. “Can you recommend a diner close by? Somewhere that serves Earth food.”

“There’s a vending machine at the end of the lot,” the clerk says, waddling away from the desk. “Don’t ask me for change. You won’t get it.”

“And thank you, too,” Gerard says under his breath. Card in hand, he goes back outside, squinting against the bright sun as he checks out their room number. “We’re in eight.”

“That’s over there.” Still sitting on his bike, Mikey points at a room toward the end of the row. Outside the door there’s a beaten up chair made for Earth sizing and metallic shutters at the window, which right now are rolled down. 

“Another luxury place,” Gerard says, looping one strap of his bag over his shoulder as he pushes his bike the short distance to the room. “I don’t know whether to have a shower first or go out to eat. I’m fucking starving but I’m sick of marinating in my own sweat.”

“It’s not so bad, you’ve smelled worse,” Mikey shrugs, and uses his feet to push himself along, still sitting on his bike. “I’m going to sleep first.”

“Yeah?” Suddenly worried again, Gerard waits for Mikey to catch up before waving the card in front of the door. “Are you feeling okay? You’re not coming down with space sickness again?”

Mikey shakes his head, grimacing as he gets off his bike and says, “No. Just caught a blaster ray back at the port. I’ll be fine, just....”

“You what?” Any thoughts of checking out the room forgotten, Gerard hurries to Mikey, pulling back his jacket when he sees Mikey start to touch his left side. “You got shot and didn’t tell me? The fuck?”

“You got shot too,” Mikey protests, indicating Gerard’s leg, where the fabric of his pants is burned and black in a large patch over his thigh. “And we needed to get away.”

“I got caught with a glancing blow.” Gerard wants to grab hold of Mikey and shake him, or grab him in a hug and never let go. What he does do is usher him into their stuffy dim room, steering gently until Mikey’s sitting down on the bed. “Stay there. I’m going to secure the bikes. Do not move.”

“Not planning on it,” Mikey says, and Gerard almost runs to the door, needing to get the bikes secured and back as fast as he can. Dropping to his knees, he engages the security measures, setting the locks and engine stalls before opening the pannier of his bike, taking out the supplies that are too bulky to keep in their bags.

“You better be sitting down still,” Gerard calls out, med kit in hand as he goes back inside, his breath catching when he sees Mikey slumped forward, his head in his hands. “Mikey!”

At the sound of his name, Mikey looks up, and now that they’re still, Gerard can see that he’s pale, Mikey’s lips white and turning into a tight line as he moves.

“Sorry. I’m tired.” Mikey blinks, as if fighting back sleep, and all Gerard wants to do is tell him to lie down and get the sleep that he needs. But he can’t, Gerard needs to see to the blaster wound first.

“You can sleep soon. I need to take care of this first.” Gerard bends forward and takes hold of MIkey’s jacket, easing it off both of his arms. Once he’s done so it’s easy to see the wound on Mikey’s side, and Gerard’s stomach rolls when he sees the blistered and burnt skin. “You should have told me. This should have been dressed before this.”

“We would have been caught,” Mikey says, gasping when Gerard tries to gently ease a fragment of Mikey’s t-shirt from where it’s stuck to raw skin. “We had to keep going.”

“Yeah. Yeah I know.” For a moment Gerard’s overwhelmed with what he needs to do -- get the wound clean, get it bandaged, hope the few antibiotics they’ve got left are enough. It’s moments like this when he wishes they were back home on Earth, where Gerard would have people to help.

But, they’re not on Earth, and they haven’t had people to reply on for a long time. This is something Gerard needs to sort out himself, and he takes a deep breath and wipes the sweat from his palms on his thighs. 

“Mikey, I need to clean this up,” Gerard says, ensuring he sounds confident as he opens the med kit and gently pushes Mikey’s shoulder so he’s lying down on his good side. “Keep lying down. It’ll be easier that way.”

“Less distance to fall when I faint you mean,” Mikey says, shifting a little so he can rest his head on his hands. Bringing up his legs, he tucks up his knees, boots digging into the bed, and hair falling forward into his face. “I’m sorry. I should have said something.”

“Yeah, you should,” Gerard says, gently pushing back Mikey’s hair and smoothing it down so it’s out of his way. “But I know why you didn’t.”

Mikey looks directly at Gerard, says, “I couldn’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Gerard says, and repeats again, softer, “You won’t.” It’s a promise Gerard seals with a kiss, something gentle as Gerard presses his mouth against Mikey’s forehead. Lingering for a moment before he steels himself to spray antiseptic onto his hands and start to peel jagged pieces of burnt fabric from off of Mikey’s burnt skin.

~*~*~*~

“I need a doctor, or a med. _Anything_.” Gerard keeps looking over his shoulder, as if, magically he can see Mikey, even though he’s a row full of rooms away. “My brother. He’s sick and he needs help.”

“And?” The clerk reluctantly waddles forward, leaning on the desk as he looks at Gerard. “I rent rooms, not give out info.”

“I know that,” Gerard bites out, resisting the urge to yell until the clerk does _something_. “But you live here. You must know where I can find a doctor. I’ll pay for the information.”

About to turn and leave, the clerk stops, zees line of beady black eyes narrowing as zie considers Gerard. “How much?” 

Frantic, Gerard tries to remember what he can offer. He’s got the rest of the universal credits and a bag full of old clothes and small souvenirs. But somehow, Gerard doesn’t think the clerk will want a Zomodian death mask or the amount of credits he’d get anyway for renting a room. There is one thing though, and Gerard says, “Wait there,” before running out of the door and back to their room.

In the few minutes he’s been gone Mikey hasn’t moved. He’s still propped up on the mound of pillows and spare clothes, pale except for the bright crimson spots of color over both cheeks. His eyes closed, he’s taking short shallow breaths, and Gerard can’t believe Mikey’s got so sick so fast. 

“Hey Mikey.” Gerard walks to the side of the bed, fear rising when he sees the bandage he’d just changed less than ten minutes before is already soaked through with puss. “I’m going to find a doctor for you, but I need some leverage for the info. I’m going to offer some glimmer, the clerk looks like he’ll use it.”

“In my bag,” Mikey says haltingly, looking at Gerard through half closed eyes. “Not too much. I’ll be okay.”

“Sure you will.” Gerard kneels, looking inside Mikey’s bag until he finds the bag of glimmer tucked close to the bottom. Package in hand, he turns, knee walking forward the short distance so he look directly at Mikey. “You’ll be good to go soon, but just in case, I think you do need to see some kind of doctor.”

“You too.” Mikey reaches out, his hand trembling as he rests it against Gerard’s side. “Your leg.”

“Really is fine,” and it is, at least compared to Mikey’s burn, which has become infected so fast Gerard suspects there was something deliberate added to the blast. “You won’t have to chop it off yet.”

Mikey laughs, high and breathless. “Good. I don’t think I’ve got the strength at the moment.”

“Always excuses with you,” Gerard says fondly, leaning over so he can rest his hand on Mikey’s forehead. “I’ll get you another cold cloth before I go.”

“‘Kay,” Mikey says, his eyes closing. “Don’t let him take you, info isn’t worth a lot.”

“I won’t.” But unlike other times when Gerard makes promises to Mikey, this is a deliberate lie, because this info means everything, and Gerard will pay anything to get it. Standing, he grabs another of his t-shirts, soaking it in cold water and then wringing it out before draping it over Mikey’s forehead. “I won’t be long. Promise,” and, this time, that’s one promise Gerard intends to keep.

A last look at Mikey, and Gerard hurries out of the room, ensuring the door is fully closed before running back to the lobby. Thankfully, the clerk is still waiting, which is good, because Gerard needs this info, enough that he approaches the desk, slams down the packet of glimmer and says, “This packet of glimmer for the info about a doctor.”

Whiskers twitching, the clerk picks up the glimmer using one flipper, bringing the package up to zees nose slits. “You want this info badly. This is the concentrated form.”

“The kind that makes any food taste great, yeah.” Barely able to breathe, Gerard watches as the clerk examines the packet, prodding the contents at length. 

“I do like the taste and glimmer is hard to find around here,” the clerk says, ignoring the way Gerard twitches, unable to remain still during the extended examination of the product. “And while normally I don’t give out information, in this case I could tell you I know of a medic who works in zone eight. Apparently he’s well-known there.”

“A medic, not a doctor?” Gerard wants to vault the desk and punch the clerk right in zees middle eye. Instead he forces himself to stay still, desperate for more details. “Haven’t you a name at least?”

“Doctors are for the important people, not hitchrats like you,” the clerk says, scorn dripping from each word. “The medic is the best that you can do. As for a name, ask for Toro, and don’t bother me again.”

Without another word, and glimmer tightly held, the clerk leaves, and Gerard knows that all he can do now is go to zone eight.”

~*~*~*~

It turns out zone eight is on the opposite side of the city, and even more rundown than the place Gerard is staying. Everywhere Gerard looks he sees derelict buildings, huge skytowers disappearing into the dust clouds and smaller buildings with their windows broken and doors smashed in. 

All around is the stench of burning, and Gerard rubs at his thigh, fingertips against the hot tendrils that snake from his own burn. One-handed, he keeps riding, speed slow as he checks out any living species he can see -- which isn’t many. Mostly the streets are deserted, apart from a group of Hisslogs who slither away when Gerard approaches and asks about Toro, their chattered words making no sense.

Frustrated, Gerard pulls to a stop, staring around, and for the first time in forever, feels completely alone. It’s a feeling Gerard hates. Even while he’s been running, Mikey’s always been at Gerard’s side, and now it feels like Gerard had lost one of his limbs. Chest aching he looks around once again, trying to decide if he should keep searching, or give up and go back to Mikey.

“I heard you’ve been looking for Toro.”

The man speaking has appeared from the side of a building. Dressed in a black coverall, he’s got a respirator hanging around his neck, and carries a bag over one shoulder. He’s talking in Earth standard, something so unusual in this sector that it takes a moment to click that Gerard can actually understand what’s been said without the aid of the other person’s comm chip.

“You’re speaking Earth standard.” It’s not what Gerard intended to say, but after so long communicating via artificially perfect language, he’s distracted by how the man’s talking, something genuine and easy like Gerard would have heard at home back on Earth. “And yes. Yes I am. I need a medic.”

The man approaches, whistling when he sees Gerard’s leg. “Nice burn, looks like you’ve been tangling with the port guards. The fucker’s have started using bioblasters, you’re lucky that looks like a graze shot.”

Fear strikes hard as Gerard suspicions are shown to be true, and he says, “I am lucky. But Mikey wasn’t. He needs a medic. If you’re Toro, can you come with me? Please.”

The man stares at Gerard, as if assessing the truth of what he’s just heard. “I’m not Toro.”

“But do you know where he is?” Close to begging now, Gerard pats his pockets, trying to think what he’s got left to offer. “I’ve got some universal credits, some clothes and shit if you want that,” and the most valuable possession of all, which would be a disaster to lose, but not as much as losing Mikey. “Or you can have my bike. It’s old but works well. Get me to Toro and it’s yours.”

“And what will you offer him?” the man asks, studying Gerard. “The clothes off your back, your boots, your sweet mouth?”

“If he wants them.” Gerard replies instantly, and means every word. Whatever he needs to do to get help he’ll do it. “So do you know Toro or not? If you don’t I need to keep looking.”

“I know him.” The man walks forward and in an unexpected graceful movement climbs behind Gerard on the bike. Sitting close, he rests his chin against Gerard’s shoulder. “I’m Frank. Follow my directions and I’ll take you to Toro.”

“You know him? Thank fuck.” Weak with relief, it takes a moment for Gerard to actually move and hit the starter, the stored energy responding with a roar of power. Feet pulled up and feeling Frank sitting close, Gerard rides down the street, taking a sharp right when Frank says to do so.

“Keep going straight on until you reach the refueling plant,” Frank says, and while he’s not holding onto Gerard, he is sitting forward, apparently somehow managing to balance perfectly despite the fact Gerard’s still speeding up. 

Gerard nods, his grip tight as he steers past potholes and what looks like an Earth car burnt out on the road. 

“That happened last night,” Frank says, casual, like cars getting burnt out is an everyday thing. “Sonic bombs and fire, they’re a bad mix.”

“I’m sure they are.” Not that Gerard has much experience with either. Needing distraction he asks, “You got caught up in that?”

“Fuck no.” Frank laughs, wild and loud. “I did that. It was fucking amazing.”

“Why?” The question slips out, Gerard curiosity pushing forward along with the unsettling realization he may have some kind of pyromaniac riding behind him, and that Frank could easily be lying about knowing Toro. In fact, Gerard could be driving to his own death, but even so, it’s a chance he’s willing to take.

“Because I could. Because it belonged to some fucker who tried to shut us down,” Frank says, sounding much more sane now he’s stopped laughing. “It was a riot, every species out for themselves. Toro’s been run off his feet.”

Gerard looks over his shoulder, trying to see Frank’s face. “Toro really is a medic?”

“Of course he is, one of the best.” Frank stares at Gerard, any trace of amusement gone as he adds, “If you weren’t sure why were you looking?”

Gerard looks forward again, trying to work out what to say. “I was sure, it’s just. I’ve been looking and no one would tell me anything. Fuck, I couldn’t understand most of them and Mikey needs a doctor and I should have been back to him already and.... fuck.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Gerard jumps when he feels Frank’s hand on his shoulder, but it’s a touch that feels reassuring, like finally, there’s somebody there offering to help. “He really is the best and he’ll help your friend. Where is he, anyway?”

“We booked a sleep room, one at the outskirts of the city, called the _Stop Over_.” Again Gerard’s grip tightens, his knuckles white as he thinks about leaving Mikey alone for so long. “I hated to leave him. But I had to.”

Frank leans forward, still touching Gerard’s shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

All Gerard can do is hope that Frank’s right.

~*~*~*~*~

It takes a while to get where they’re going. So long in fact that Gerard’s veered between hope and a surety he’s about to get killed at least a few times. Eventually though, Frank says, “That building there, drive behind it.”

The building Frank’s indicating seems to be yet another derelict wreck, but as Gerard rides closer, he sees signs that’s not actually the case. The first is the fact that unlike the surrounding areas, the road around the building is clear of all debris, and the second and more significant, a small red cross painted on one of the crumbling walls. It’s a sign of medical help that Gerard recognizes from Earth, and he says, “Toro’s a humanoid, too?”

“We all are in this place,” Frank says, and suddenly whistles, loud and piercing. “Just letting them know that we’re coming.”

Gerard slows almost to a stop. “Why, would we be blasted on sight otherwise?”

“No.” Frank laughs as he jumps off, taking a few stumbling steps forward. “I just like to whistle.”

“He just likes to annoy people he means.” It’s a woman who’s talking, Another humanoid who’s appeared out of a half-hidden door, her grin wide as she looks at Frank. “Hi baby. I see you found yourself a ride.”

“He found me.” Frank opens his arms, pulling the woman into a long, lingering hug, still standing so close that they touch when he finally pulls back. “This is Jamia, my wife. Jamia, this is.... actually, I don’t know his name, but he’s looking for Toro.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Jamia smiles, something reassuring as if sensing that Gerard is coming to the end of being able to cope. Leaving Frank, she approaches Gerard, looking from his face down to his leg. “That’s a nasty burn. But you’re not here for that, yeah?”

Surprised, Gerard wants to ask how she knows, but doesn’t, all too aware of time ticking on. “No. I’m here for Mikey. He’s hurt, got caught with a blaster shot at the port and got sick really fast. He needs help, if you’re Toro, please. We have to go to him.”

“I’m not him, but he’s inside.” Business like now, Jamia turns to Frank. “Go tell Ray we’re going on a collection. Tell him he’ll need a field kit and the cruiser.”

Weak with relief, Gerard slumps forward, arms crossed on the console of his bike. Now that he knows he’s found help, it feels like he’s gone to zero to full gravity in seconds, his whole body shaking with previously repressed exhaustion and pain. 

“It’s okay, we’re helping now.” Jamia moves close, placing her hand on Gerard’s arm, squeezing gently. “Come inside. I’ll get you something to take the edge off, because that burn has to hurt.”

“It didn’t before.” With effort, Gerard sits up straight and then gets off his bike. It’s something he’s done countless time before, but this time he wobbles, and would have fallen if not for Jamia, who instantly stands by his side, arm around Gerard’s waist and providing support.

Slowly she starts walking. “Hold onto me, it’s not far, and your bike will be safe here.”

“It’s not mine, it’s Frank’s now.” It’s something that hurts to say, but Gerard promised Frank the bike if he got him to Toro, and it’s a promise Gerard intends to keep. “I said he could have it if he got me to Toro, and he did, so....”

Jamia sighs, but when she speaks she sounds fond. “My husband’s a pain in the ass at times. But he won’t want your bike. That’s not how we operate around here.”

Gerard tries to make sense of the comment, but before he can, they go inside, and instantly he knows that Toro is more than one medic trying to help.

“It’s a nice set-up, yeah?” Jamia says, sounding proud as they walk along a clean hallway with a variety of seats set along one wall, and rooms opening off on both sides. It’s a complete contradiction to the outside, so much so that Gerard could think he’s stepped through some worm hole.

“You’ve got your own hidden lair.”

Jamia laughs, says, “We do, but ours is full of good people and not evil geniuses.”

Gerard keeps walking, taking in the hand written notices in several galaxy wide standard languages, and one room that when he looks inside he finds is filled with empty cots.

“Those were all full yesterday, the aftermath of the riot, but thankfully nothing too serious,” Jamia says, seeing where Gerard is looking. “Apart from that, it’s been quiet for a while. It’s how we’ve been able to stay so long. And, here we are.” Jamia steers Gerard around a corner and into a room where a man is gathering supplies from well-stocked shelves. “Ray, this is.... sorry, I didn’t ask your name either.”

“Gerard,” Gerard says, thankful when Jamia pulls a chair forward and urges Gerard to sit down. “I need help. Mikey’s hurt and I’m looking for Toro.”

“And you’ve found him,” the man says, putting a final item into his bag. “Ray Toro at your service. Bob’s bringing the cruiser around and then we’ll go and get your friend.”

“Thank you.” It’s all Gerard can say, as, for the first time in a while, he can feel hope. It helps that Ray himself is so calm, radiating good humor and competency as he checks his bag and then takes something else from the shelf, before crouching down in front of Gerard. “I’m going to give you something that will help your pain. It won’t make you sleepy, well, any more than you are now, but it will make you feel better. If you don’t want it you can say no, but I wouldn’t advise it.”

Gerard doesn’t even think, trusting Toro completely even within a few minutes. “Go for it.”

Efficiently, Ray snaps the end off a blister pack and squeezes the thick gel onto Gerard’s arm. Gel that, within moments seeps into Gerard’s skin.

“We picked up a shipment a few weeks back,” Ray says, noticing how Gerard’s watching the gel disappear. “It’s easy to carry and dispense. And also fast acting.”

That’s something Gerard can agree with. Already he’s started to feel better, the burning pain in his thigh receding and his headache becoming more of a background ache instead of a throb. In fact, he feels so much better that he gets to his feet and says, “Thank you. We should go now.”

“We are,” Ray says with a smile, seemingly happy that Gerard’s responded so quickly. “But try and take it easy. All that’s doing is masking how you’re feeling, not curing.”

“I will,” Gerard says, even though he’s got no intention of actually relaxing. “Can we go now? I’ve been gone too long.”

Ray picks up his bag and looks toward Jamia. “I’ll comm you on the way back. There shouldn’t be any influx of patients, but if they are.....”

“I’ll deal with them,” Jamia says, cutting in with a smile. “I’ve got this. Go before Gerard picks you up and runs back to his friend.”

Flustered, Gerard starts to apologize. “Sorry. It’s just, I need to get back to him and....”

“It’s okay. We get it.” Ray smiles again and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder. “Bob will be ready by now. Let’s go.”

Gerard doesn’t need telling twice.

~*~*~*~*~

In all honesty, the journey back to the sleep rooms sucks. Thankful that Bob apparently knows the location of the _Stop Over_ , Gerard spends all his time curled up in a passenger seat of the cruiser, nausea rising as he thinks about what could be waiting after he’s been gone for so long.

Not that Gerard believes that Mikey is actually dead. If he were Gerard would know, he’s sure about that. But there’s always a chance, and Gerard’s seconds away from puking over his feet when Bob pulls to a stop and announces, “We’re here.”

Instantly, Gerard jumps up, scrabbling at the controls of the door before Frank lets him out, and then runs at full speed to the room where he left Mikey. Hands shaking, it takes Gerard two tries to open the door before rushing inside, bile rising when he’s hit with the stench of rotting flesh, infection and piss.

“Mikey.” His heart thundering, Gerard approaches the bed, where Mikey’s not moving. So still on his mountain of pillows and clothes that Gerard’s blinking back tears as he sits on the edge of the bed, hesitating a moment before touching Mikey’s hand. Which is hot, not deathly cold, and Gerard clutches it tight, wrapping his fingers around Mikey’s. “Mikey. I’m back. I’ve got help.”

Mikey doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move and Gerard brings his hand to his mouth, kissing Mikey’s knuckles as he notices the green puss that’s sliding from under the bandage, how the whole of his side is bright red and striped with black tendrils that snake out from the burn.

“Hey Mikey.” Gerard looks up and sees Toro approaching the bed, his bag held in one hand. Sitting on the opposite side of the bed to Gerard, he touches Mikey’s arm, as if announcing he’s there, and then frowns as he looks at the covered wound. “I hear you’ve been tangling with the port guards. But we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“Really?” Still holding Mikey’s hand, Gerard stares at Toro, needing him to say yes. “You can fix this? He’ll be okay?”

“I can’t promise you that,” Toro says, peeling back the bandage and not even flinching when more puss slides down to the bed and wets Toro’s pants. “The infection is extensive, but we’ve got meds that will help and a place where he can get the best care.”

It’s not the answer Gerard wanted, but it’s one that he’ll take, especially as Toro seems to know exactly what he’s doing, calm always as he puts on disposable gloves so he can clean Mikey’s side and spray on antiseptic before covering the wound.

“Bob, can you take him to the cruiser? Frank, I’m assuming that’s Mikey’s bike outside, can you ride it back to HQ? Gerard, I’ve been able to do basic field aid but Mikey needs to be at HQ. If you’ve any personal belongings gather them up, you won’t be coming back here.” Toro stops talking then, pulling off his gloves as he turns his attention back to Mikey. “Mikey. You just keep sleeping. Bob’s going to carry you to the cruiser. I know it’s undignified, but I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got at the moment.”

Toro stands, and Gerard indicates Mikey’s bag, unwilling to let go of his hand just yet. “The guest starter for Mikey’s bike is in the bag. The kill switch for security is on the same fob.”

Frank nods and kneels next to the bag. Looking inside, he pulls out the fob and then stands. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“Thanks,” Gerard says, and he doesn’t want to let go, even if Bob’s moving close.

“I’ll be careful with him,” Bob says, and Gerard believes him, even if he’s known Bob less than an hour. Even so, Gerard holds on, snatching a few last moments of contact.

“Gerard, Mikey needs to be at HQ, and you need your stuff,” Toro says, patient as he looks at Gerard. “If you get it together now we can be out of here before anyone sees the state of this bed, otherwise you’re going to be stung for damages.”

It’s something Gerard hadn’t thought of, but now he remembers the clerk’s warning about damages, and a fine that Gerard just doesn’t have. Even so, it’s Toro’s first point that gets Gerard moving, reluctantly letting go of Mikey’s hand.

As soon as he does, Bob steps forward, effortlessly scooping Mikey up, stained blanket and all. “Are you ready to go back? I’d say we’ve got less than a minute before someone comes to check out what’s going on.”

It’s the push Gerard needs. Jumping to his feet he shoves their few belongings into their bags, and picks them both up, all the time looking back at Mikey and Bob.

“You ready?” Toro asks, and at Gerard’s nod, adds, “Then let’s blow this place. Now.”

~*~*~*~

“I know you want to be with Mikey, but you really don’t want to see Ray debride his wound.” Bodily placing herself between Gerard and the room Mikey’s in, Jamia touches his arm. “Come with me. I’ll show you where to get cleaned up then I’ll dress your leg, by the time we’re done Ray will be finished.”

It’s something that makes sense, but even so, Gerard’s not going anywhere. Even if he’s not allowed in the room right now, he’ll wait until the moment he is. “I need to be here. What if he wakes up and I’m not there? He’ll be surrounded by strangers.”

“He won’t wake up,” Jamia says, as if that’s a certainty. “And even if he did, you wouldn’t be allowed in. That’s a sterile room, and right now you’re hardly sterile.”

It’s an understatement, Gerard knows that. Right now he’s damp with sweat, dirt ingrained in his skin and his pants are ruined, both by the blaster and by sitting next to Mikey on the journey back. Even now Gerard can smell the lingering stench of rot, and his stomach rolls again as Jamia takes hold of his arm and starts to steer him away. 

“It’ll take twenty minutes tops to get you cleaned up, and then you can come back. Promise.” Jamia squeezes her hand, reassuring via touch. “Ray’s one of the best. You can trust him.”

“I do. It’s just....” Gerard trails off, unable to verbalize just how much Mikey means to him, but Jamia’s looking at Gerard like she gets it, sympathy obvious as she keeps them both moving.

“Have you been travelling with him long?” Jamia asks, and this is a story Gerard’s told a few times to the other hitchers he’s spent time travelling with over the years: but never the actual full true story. The one that’s Mikey and Gerard’s alone.

“A really long time.” More than Gerard would ever admit to in fact, but Jamia doesn’t need to know how Gerard and Mikey ran as soon as Mikey came of age, and how even before that, they knew it was what they needed to do. “We didn’t get matched under Earth laws, and being apart wasn’t an option. So we ran.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do,” and Gerard would ask what Jamia means, sensing a story, but she’s slowed next to a room at the end of the hallway, pushing open the door. “Shower room, we’ve only got water, sorry. That’s easier to get than the power for sonic cleaning. There’s stuff inside, but I’ll go and get you some clean clothes.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’ve got spares,” Gerard points out, feeling awkward about all this hospitality when all he’s done is create problems. “I’ll go and get my bag.”

“I get the feeling your spare clothes won’t be much cleaner than these,” Jamia says, and while she still sounds sympathetic, there’s an underlying sense of taking no bullshit that suggests this is yet another fight Gerard’s going to lose. “If you want to wear your own stuff you can wash them and change later.”

“Okay, fine. Thank you.” Gerard gives in, as gracefully as possible. Going into the room, he looks around, seeing individual shower stalls and a huge empty tub set into the floor. 

“This place used to be part of a sports arena,” Jamia says. Stepping just inside she keeps the door open with her body as she talks to Gerard. “We can fill the tub if needed, but most people just use the showers. Controls are inside the stalls and towels in the corner. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, Jamia leaves, and Gerard walks further forward into the room. His boots tapping against the tiled floor, he looks around, flinching when he sees his reflection in one of the wall-mounted mirrors. It looks like Gerard’s aged years within days. It doesn’t help that his hair is matted and sticks up in clumps while his skin is sallow and grey. As looks go it’s more like the space crazy vagrants that Gerard used to see back home, and not what he’s used to: someone who’s always on the move but still enjoys life, however unpredictable it is. 

Of course, that enjoyment comes along with Mikey, and Gerard takes a half step back toward the door before abruptly stopping. There’s no point going back yet, plus, as much as he wants to, Gerard really needs to get clean, too.

Decision made, he scoops up a towel and picks the shower stall nearest the side wall. Stepping inside, instantly an array of controls light up, some of them colored red where sonic shower options are given. Which is fine, as fast as sonic cleaning is, right now Gerard’s okay with water, and he starts to quickly pull off his clothes. 

It’s only when doing so Gerard realizes just how dirty they’ve become. Fabric stiff under his fingers he drops his jacket outside of the stall, and quickly tugs off his t-shirt, adding it to the discarded pile. Boots next, Gerard kicking them outside and balancing against the wall as he peels off both socks, throwing them so they land with a damp splat. Which leaves Gerard in pants only, something that should be easy to remove, but right now the thought of pulling his pants over his leg makes Gerard wince. 

Not that he’s got any choice. Slowly, Gerard unfastens his button and belt, his hands shaking slightly as he pushes his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh -- and then stops. Half crouching, Gerard pulls in a deep breath, and then, his grip tight, pushes again. Which is fine for the first moment, then fabric is pulled free from burned and irritated skin, and Gerard’s biting back a yell as he’s left sweating and shaky, a pile of his clothes surrounding his ankles.

“That was kind of hardcore, and stupid.” Gerard looks up and if he didn’t feel so sick he’d be embarrassed that Frank’s entered the room unnoticed, and is standing shamelessly watching Gerard. “Jamia sent me with some clean clothes. And to see if you needed help. I’ll have to tell her you didn’t.”

Gerard straightens, kicking his clothes from out of the stall with one foot as he tries to think if he should be making an effort to cover his junk. Etiquette suggests yes and most times Gerard would be hiding away, but truthfully, right now he doesn’t give a damn who can see him. 

“I don’t have time to ease them off,” Gerard says, peering at the controls to the shower. “What the fuck is a monsoon setting?”

“Something you’re not ready for yet.” Setting down a handful of clothes, Frank approaches and looks in the stall. “Select the rain one. It’s warm and won’t feel like you’re being pounded by an out of control waterfall.”

“Sounds good.” Gerard waits until Frank is out of the stall and hits the button for rain, sighing at the feel of warm water against his head and shoulders. Eyes closed, he tips back his head, enjoying the way the water flows freely, washing away dirt.

“Mikey. He’s important to you.” Gerard opens his eyes and looks toward Frank, who’s standing a few steps away from the stall. Looking directly at Gerard, Frank answers his own question before Gerard can respond. “No, it’s okay. I can tell that he is. Like me and Jamia. It’s why... Look, I’m not medical or shit and I’m not cagey. So, just, Ray’s the best at what he does, so don’t give up hope, even if it looks hopeless.”

As reassurances go it’s still lacking, but Gerard is grateful for every word, needing something to cling on to no matter how vague. It’s why he says, “I won’t”, and then again, louder this time, “I won’t.”

And he means it.

~*~*~*~

Gerard hasn’t spent much time in hospitals, even when he was home on Earth any medical issues were solved by a visit to the local remote access health net with no staying over involved. It’s why this is so unsettling now, even though, technically this place isn’t a hospital either. 

Not that it’s a distinction that matters to Gerard. He’s still hyper aware of the equipment that surrounds Mikey’s bed, the tube that provides nutrients, and scanner that bleeps and flashes as it takes constant vitals. It doesn’t help that Mikey himself looks different, any life seemingly missing as he lies still, deathly pale and his breathing shallow.

“He’s looking better today,” Ray says, looking approving as he takes notes of the readings. “The infection is receding, too. I think we may be on top of things at last.”

“Yeah?” Standing, Gerard winces, his knees cracking as he walks to Ray’s side of the bed. To Gerard, the wound still looks as bad as before under the transparent dressing, but he’s willing to concede to Ray’s expert opinion. “It still looks like hamburger meat.”

“Well I know what I won’t be having for dinner,” Ray says with a fake grimace as he picks up a snap tube which he hands to Gerard. “You can give Mikey his meds, then come and eat with us.”

“I’m not hungry.” It’s an automatic reaction, said as Gerard breaks the tube and squeezes gel onto Mikey’s arm. It’s something that Gerard’s been doing for the last two days now, something he knows makes Mikey feel better, and also, Gerard himself, knowing he can help, if only in a small way. 

Ray watches, ensuring the gel sinks in fully and then says, “So you keep saying, but Frank’s made stew. He’ll be pissed if you don’t eat any.”

“With what?” Gerard can’t help being suspicious. This planet isn’t exactly known for its cuisine and in the time Gerard’s been here he’s seen little that could be described as recognizable food or anything that could be added into a stew. “I haven’t heard as much scratching coming from the ceiling lately, if Frank....”

“You think Frank’s been hunting skitterbugs and making them into a stew?” Ray doesn’t even attempt to hide his grin, which is good, because when he’s laughing like this he becomes someone Gerard’s not in awe of. Which is stupid, Ray’s never made Gerard feel small or dumb, in fact, he’s been nothing but kind, but to Gerard, most times he remains Toro, the famed medic who saved Mikey’s life. “I can promise you, that didn’t happen.”

“Okay, good.” Gerard looks over at Mikey, automatically checking his breathing and then says, “I guess I could eat something.”

“Awesome.” Ray’s grin widens, like the fact Gerard’s actually going to share dinner is something that’s genuinely made his day. “You won’t regret it, Frank’s a great cook. Even if he doesn’t stew skitterbugs.”

“There’s been less scratching,” Gerard protests, remaining still when Ray drapes his arm over Gerard’s shoulder in a gesture of affection that’s unexpected, but somehow feels right. “A few nights ago I thought they were going to get through the walls.”

“It’s the drawbacks of this building,” Ray says, squeezing Gerard’s shoulder before stepping away. “Location wise it’s fucking fantastic, but Bob needs to bug bomb weekly or we’d be invaded.”

“You couldn’t go somewhere else?” It’s something Gerard’s thought about a few times, his mind flitting between ideas as he watched over Mikey late into the night. “Somewhere permanent, where people can find you easier.”

Ray sighs, all trace of his grin gone as he looks at Gerard. “It doesn’t work like that. I haven’t got a license to practice medicine here. None of us have. The city is a shithole and it’s getting worse all the time. Between the guards and the riots this place will be razed to the ground soon.”

“So why stay?” Gerard doesn’t get it. He’s spent years travelling the galaxies with Mikey. To places so fantastic they didn’t want to leave and those they left within hours. It makes no sense for Ray and his group to stick around without a good reason, and right now, Gerard can’t see any reason at all. “If you haven’t the money you can hitch. When Mikey’s better we can show you how to travel the routes. It’s not that hard once you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m sure you’d be great guides, but this is my home.” Ray indicates the room and boarded up window, where red tinted light beams through the cracks. “I can’t leave. I’m needed, and more than that. I like it here.”

“Why?” As questions go it’s blunt, Gerard incredulous that anything on this planet is worth sticking around for. As far as he’s concerned all there is here is dust, broken down buildings and a transient population, most of whom won’t speak outside of their species. 

Ray looks at Gerard, as if thinking over what he’s about to say next. “I know on the surface this place is fucked up. But if you stick around you’ll find out it’s more. You just need to know where to look.”

“More than power hungry guards and dust?” Gerard can’t see it, not when to him, this planet is nothing but sense memories of dust in his mouth, the stink of rotting flesh and a knowledge that he’s somewhere where he doesn’t belong. “As soon as Mikey’s better we’re out of here.”

“And if you want to do that we won’t stop you,” Ray says, apparently taking no offence at Gerard’s dislike of the place that Ray calls home. “But before you do, you should come out with us one time. See what’s really out there.”

“I can’t leave Mikey.” As always it’s an instinctive reaction, and one Gerard means, even though admittedly, he’s curious about the world Ray’s describing. 

“Maybe not now,” Ray says, understanding as always. “But a few days and Mikey should be awake and you’ll be able to go out for a break.”

“I don’t....” Gerard trails off when Ray cuts in, stopping Gerard mid-sentence.

“No one can stay here 24-7 without going crazy.”

“You do,” Gerard says, staring at Ray when he starts to laugh in response. 

“I leave this place plenty.” Ray says with a grin, something that helps reassure that while he is laughing, it’s not at Gerard himself. “I know what they say out there. But I’m not just Toro the medic, someone who stays in this place always and whose only aim in life is to heal the injured and sick.”

“Yeah. You are.” That’s something that Gerard has to protest, because whatever Ray says, he’s still the person who swooped in and saved Mikey, and has been there caring for him ever since. “Mikey would have died without you. And my leg would have fallen off.”

“I doubt spontaneous limb losing would have happened,” Ray says, and then, more serious. “I’m not saying part of me isn’t Toro. It is. This place is my passion and I’ll defend it and my team always. But I’m more than that. I like to go out with my friends. I like to play guitar and go to the underground bars. I like to listen in to space signals and re-build equipment. I like to be called Ray by my friends, because that’s who I am.”

For a long moment Gerard remains silent, looking at Ray and reassessing what he sees. That the person in front of him just isn’t Toro the medic, but an actual person Gerard would like to know. Holding onto that thought, Gerard says, “If the invitation still stands, I’d like to go out with you one time.”

“Of course it still stands.” His grin back in place, Ray seems delighted at Gerard’s response. “As soon as you’re ready let me know. I’ll take you to some of the best places. Show you this place isn’t all dust and getting ignored.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Gerard says, and realizes that, yeah, it is something he wants. Maybe not now, but soon. A last look at Mikey, Gerard starts walking, his stomach growling as he adds, “Thanks, Ray.”

~*~*~*~

In all the time he’s been travelling, Gerard’s faced down countless dangers. Sure, none of them involved actual fights as such, but at the same time, he’s not some earthcat that runs at the first sight of trouble. Even so, Gerard suspects he’s about to back down now, when he’s faced with the steely-eyed glare of Jamia and the tablet that she brandishes in Gerard’s direction.

“Go.” Jamia stands firm, blocking Gerard’s path into the room. “I’m going to hang with Mikey. We’re going to watch space operas and eat stew and if he’s good, maybe even crack open a bottle of fizz juice.”

“Is that okay for him to drink?” While Gerard’s no medic, he was in the room while Bob and Frank were bottling the juice, and somehow, something so thick and neon green doesn’t seem suitable for someone who’s recovering from being so sick. “And didn’t it turn Bob’s face green?”

“Only for an hour,” Jamia says, sounding unconcerned as she starts to bodily push Gerard back into the hallway. “Go. Have fun. Heckle the crappy bands for me.”

“The bands?” Gerard stops still, unmoving when Jamia bumps against his chest. “We’re going to listen to music?”

“Well you’re not going dust wrestling.” Slowly, Jamia looks Gerard up and down, her mouth curving up into a wide grin. “Though you would look amazing in the costumes. Yeah you’re going to listen to music. This place has an amazing underground music scene. Ray told you that.”

“I didn’t think he meant it.” And Gerard didn’t, even now, when arrangements have been made for him to go out with Bob, Frank and Ray. “I thought it was an excuse to get me away from Mikey.”

“No one’s trying to mess with your co-dependent bond,” Jamia says, taking a step to the side. “Which is why I’m giving you a few minutes to say goodbye. After that, I will bodily carry you out. Even if I have to paralyze you with vem and shove you in an anti-grav bed first.”

For all of a moment Gerard considers protesting, but in the time he’s been here, one of the first things he learned was, Jamia always follows through on her threats. “No need for that. I just want to say goodbye.”

“So do it, then.” Her grin gone, but eyes bright, Jamia steps past Gerard. “Not that I’d be opposed to watch you two make out, but I’ve forgotten the fizz juice. So I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I am only going to say goodbye,” Gerard says, hoping he’s not blushing as he hurries into the room and comes to an abrupt stop at the side of Mikey’s bed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mikey says in reply, looking amused as looks past Gerard toward Jamia, who leaves with a wave and a wink. “I thought you were going out?”

“I am.” Ignoring the chair, Gerard sits on the bed, shifting sideways so he can look directly at Mikey. “I wanted to see if you were okay first.”

“You only saw me thirty minutes ago,” Mikey points out, moving his hand so he can rest it on top of Gerard’s. “I like your new outfit. Everyone will be looking at you.”

“I think they’re Frank’s spares, I nearly had to pull the pants on using grease from the bikes.” Gerard wiggles, making the shiny material squeak against the blanket. “I don’t think my junk will ever recover.”

Mikey frees his hand from under Gerard’s, and runs his fingers along the length of Gerard’s thigh in a slow, teasing touch. “I’ll rub the circulation back in it later.”

“Tease.” It’s all Gerard can say, because as much as he loves that idea, how much he craves Mikey’s touch, right now it’s too soon. It’s only days since Mikey woke up, and even if he does look much better, his wound visibly smaller, he’s in no condition to do anything but recover and sleep. “But keep that thought for later.”

“Your junk may be a shriveled stump by then,” Mikey says, mock sad as he stops moving his hand. “We’d have to ask Ray about reconstruction techniques. Or a transplant.”

“Like that ever ends well.” Gerard shudders, imagining waking up with some alien dick attached to his body. “With our luck I’d end up with a Bavarian barbed dick and you know I don’t like needles.”

“I think those are more hooks than needles,” Mikey says, his gaze unfocused as if he’s actually picturing a Bavarian hooked dick. “But yeah. That’s not a good scene. I don’t want to be pierced from the inside.”

“We’d be a human centipede if I got stuck,” Gerard says, remembering the old Earth movie they’d managed to download and watch from the skynet. “We’d have to get rid of one of the bikes.”

“Because that’s the most pressing issue if we ended up as a human centipede,” Mikey says, making no attempt to hold in his laughter. “But stop changing the subject. Go. Have a good time. I want to hear all about the scene on this planet.”

“You know about the scene?” If Mikey does it makes no sense, especially as the vast majority of time they’ve been on this planet he’s been unconscious. “You haven’t even been out there since we arrived. It’s all dust and broken down buildings.”

“And a thriving underground music scene,” Mikey says easily, as if it’s a scene he knows intimately himself. “Just don’t get separated from the others. Apparently riots happen most nights.”

“I won’t,” Gerard promises, and it’s a promise he intends to keep, even if it means he’s one step behind Ray, Frank and Bob for the whole of the night. “I should go.”

“You should,” Mikey agrees, and when Gerard makes no attempt at moving, gently pushes against his side with the flat of his hand. “Jamia will vem you. She won’t even have to come in the room, she’s an ace with a dart.”

“I’m sure she is.” Reluctantly, Gerard stands, remaining crouched over slightly so he’s on Mikey’s level. “Do everything Jamia says. Don’t try to walk unaided and eat all of your stew.”

Mikey grins, says, “Yes mom,” and then laughs when Gerard grimaces in response.

“It’s fucking creepy when you do that,” Gerard says, and moves in closer. “Especially when I’m about to do this.”

Despite holding back slightly, Gerard still sinks into the kiss. After so long together, it’s instinctive to move into the right place, Mikey’s hand against Gerard’s side, Gerard tilting his head so they’re at the exact perfect angle. Right now it feels like Gerard is totally connected with Mikey, all worries gone and lingering exhaustion pushed aside, all that matters is the feel of Mikey’s mouth against Gerard’s, the sound of him breathing, the feel of Mikey’s tongue against his own before Gerard finally pulls back and repeats on an out breath, “I should go.”

“Then go.” Mikey follows the command with another kiss, brief and fleeting before he settles back against his piled up mound of pillows and says, “I’m okay, Gee. I promise.”

“I know,” Gerard replies, and finally walks from the room.

~*~*~*~

Riding with Frank feels weird. While Gerard’s done it before, that time his focus was on Mikey, but now Gerard’s hyper aware of how Frank’s sitting so close. Each time Frank moves, Gerard’s reminded it’s someone different behind him, especially when Frank bodily presses against Gerard’s back in order to talk.

“Take the next left.” Directions given, Frank sits back, balancing easily as Gerard takes the corner, slowing to a stop in what looks like a tiny humanoid strip mall, one that ends with a barricade of twisted metal that stretches over the road. “It’s to slow the guards down. If there’s warnings people have a chance to run or fight back.”

Feet on the ground, Gerard takes off his helmet and immediately squints, trying to keep the dust from out of his eyes. This close to the city outskirts it’s like you’re breathing in grit, and Gerard’s throat feels coated and lungs tight. Swallowing, he watches as Frank gets off of the bike and heads toward an intergalactic food store, one where the window is covered with crisscrossed laser protectors while the produce inside looks dusty and faded. 

Close by, a variety of vehicles are parked up, all battered and dull, blending into the background as if they’ve been in the same place forever. After a look around, Gerard assumes they belong to the humanoids he can see inside of the shop. Which, if that’s the meeting place, means this scene isn’t not the worst Gerard’s encountered but it’s nowhere near the best either. Not unless your idea of a good time is hanging in a dusty shop eating out of date food. 

“We’re going in there?” Gerard climbs off his bike, his legs aching even after this relatively short ride. Rocking from one foot to the other, he breathes shallowly and tries to work out the ache as Frank waves at Ray and Bob, who’re parking the cruiser close by. 

“Sort of.” Frank looks over his shoulder, his smile wide and directed fully at Gerard. “Engage your locks, it’ll be okay to leave the bike here.”

“So what? We can go eat ancient cereal.” Still, despite a growing bemusement that they’ve come out for this, Gerard does as Frank says, easily slipping into the routine of engaging all the mag locks and stowing his helmet.

“Didn’t Ray tell you things are more than they seem?” Frank says, his grin still in place as he heads toward the shop, dust swirling around his feet with each step. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

Dubious still, Gerard starts walking, slowing when he sees the humanoids inside have disappeared, leaving only a clerk at the counter. Craning his neck, Gerard peers through the crisscrossed lasers, trying to see if inside, there’s some place to hide. 

Pushing open the door, Frank bats ineffectively at the front of his jacket and says, “Told you.”

“Told me what?” Despite his confusion, Gerard’s going to get no answer from Frank who’s already inside. Instead, Gerard waits until Ray and Bob are close before he asks. “Is there a wormhole in there? Or a time portal? Because a load of people just disappeared.”

“Like this shithole could afford the tech for a wormhole,” Bob says, sidestepping Gerard so he can reach for the door. “Think more basic. When things got done by hand and not invented by mechanoids.”

“Basic. The fuck?” About to ask more, Gerard stops when he enters the shop, and sees a fleeting glimpse of Frank’s back before he disappears into a hole in the wall. 

“Molat covers it with shelves after people go through,” Ray says, directing a smile at the clerk who waves all six of zir hands in response despite never looking up from the tablet zir’s reading. “It’s old school but flies under the tech detection radar.”

“We’re going in there, too?” Now that he’s here all Gerard wants to do is follow Frank and explore beyond the wall. As feelings go, eager anticipation is one that Gerard’s almost forgotten, his natural curiosity something that’s recently been dampened. Now though -- Gerard takes a step forward, peering into the darkness. “What’s in there? A Spittlewoz cave? Beetledorl wrestling? I know they like the dark. Or a few jumps back we met a colony of vampires. They lived in a labyrinth under the city. I offered my blood but they said humanoids made them retch.”

“No vampires, sorry,” Ray says, seemingly torn between amusement and confusion. “And I don’t think Beetledorls have evolved past the omega system.”

Gerard sighs, realizing that Ray’s right. “Yeah, they like the sulfur there. So what are we going to see?”

Ray opens his mouth as if he’s about to respond, then closes it again before walking forward, gently urging Gerard to start walking again. “How about you see for yourself?”

It’s a suggestion that Gerard’s not about to ignore. A last look at Molat -- who’s paying no attention at all -- Gerard steps into the hole, and a darkness so complete it feels oppressive.

“Walk forward ten steps and you’ll see a light. Head for that,” Bob says, his voice loud and echoing slightly from behind them.

“Okay,” Gerard says, and it’s not like he’s scared as such. It’s just, stepping further into the darkness makes his skin crawl, the thoughts of what lurks in the dark pushing forward. Right now Gerard would pay his weight in old earth gold to have Mikey there at his side, but as that’s not possible, all his trust goes elsewhere. “You’re sure this is the right way? I’m not going to plummet down a sinkhole.”

“If you do you’ll be the first ever,” Bob says, and while Gerard can’t see him, he can imagine the look on his face as he adds, “Not that it means there’s none there if you take the wrong path.”

“Which you won’t,” Ray says, reassuring as always. “Just keep walking. You’ll soon see.”

“I hope so,” Gerard mutters, and keep walking, relieved when, after what feels like many more steps than ten, a light appears in the darkness. “I see the light. What now?”

“Step into the light,” Ray says seriously, making no indication that what he’s just said could be some kind of joke.

“Step into the light? I don’t....” Gerard trails off, any words gone as he steps into the ring of weak light, and is instantly pulled forward and propelled onto a wooden surface. Disorientated, Gerard staggers, almost falling as he tries to adjust to the sudden and unexpected movement.

“It’s a matter transporter,” Frank says, taking hold of Gerard’s arm and steadying him as he tries to stand straight. “Only a small one, just enough to get you through the rock wall. But it’s still a lot to get used to.”

“No kidding.” His stomach rolling, Gerard swallows hard, gagging as Frank keeps hold, his obvious concern also overlain with amusement. 

“You get used to it after the first fifty or so times.” Frank takes a step to the side, pulling Gerard with him so they’re out of the way when first Ray and then Bob appear, both seemingly expelled from the rock wall. “Your stomach will settle soon, but if it doesn’t, puke on Ray. He’s trained for it.”

“Not going to puke,” Gerard says, sheer willpower ensuring that’s true as he alternates swallowing and dry retching. “It’s good to watch, but I hate doing it myself.”

Frank gives Gerard a look, says slowly, “Okay then,” and then adds, “If you’re ready, we need to go this way.”

“Ready.” Now that his stomach has started to settle, Gerard’s starting to take note of what’s happening around him. From what he can tell they’re in some kind of rock tunnel, but close by there are other beings. Gerard can hear them, and more importantly, hear music. From here it’s muffled, but now that he’s aware it’s almost like Gerard can feel the deep beat of bass under his feet. It’s something he’s missed, and Gerard starts forward, not even looking back when someone else is propelled through the wall. 

Still holding onto Gerard’s arm, Frank follows, says, “If we get separated inside, do not drink the Krabique ale, it’s toxic to humans. Don’t try to mosh with the ultrabots, it fucking hurts when they body slam you, and most important. If you hear the riot warning, run. No fighting, even if it is tempting. You’re in no condition for battle and don’t know the guard’s tricks.”

“Toxic, bots, riots, got it,” Gerard says, distracted by the ever increasing volume of music. Until, what Frank’s just said sinks in completely. “Getting involved in a riot is tempting?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, baby.” His grin wide, Frank jumps while boxing the air with one hand, as if even the idea of a riot has filled his energy bar completely. “Riots are fucking awesome.”

“They are,” Bob agrees, which isn’t a shock. While Gerard knows Bob the least of them all he still knows him enough to suspect he’d enjoy a good fight. But what is surprising is when Ray steps up close so he can hi-five with Frank.

“Getting involved with the riots is a fucking blast,” Ray says, his mouth curving up into a wide smile when he sees the way that Gerard is staring. “They’re also serious and senseless, but if the guards are going to push, we’re going to push back.”

To Gerard it doesn’t make sense. But no matter how many questions he has, now isn’t the time to ask them. Already everyone’s attention is on the end of tunnel, where bright light is bleeding into the darkness, revealing glinting particles of dust that shower down with each throb of the bass. 

“We can talk politics later,” Ray says, his speed increasing as he walks. “Tonight we’re going to have fun.”

“Tonight we’re going to party!” Frank yells, and, fingers gripped hard around Gerard’s wrist, starts to run, pulling so Gerard’s got no choice but to follow. “Ready for that mind fuck?”

“Bring it.” It’s all Gerard manages to say before he tugged around the corner, and is faced with an enormous underground cavern -- one that’s full of different species dancing. Most have remained on the floor, though a few Krytanian Cescts have taken to the walls and ceiling, their wings glittering as they move, dancing along to the music provided by the half mech who’s standing on a platform, scrolling through music, zirs eyes flashing in time with the beat. 

Still for a moment, Frank stares at Gerard, taking in his reaction and simply says, “Told you.”

And Frank did, except, nothing he’s said could prepare Gerard for what he’s seeing now. The vibrant colors and crush of bodies. The scent of sweat and sugary drinks. Flames flickering in corners and everywhere, beings dancing to music.

It’s a seething mess for the senses, and Gerard can’t wait to jump in. Looking behind him, he sees Ray, who says, “Go on,” indicating the roughly hewn steps to the main floor.

Grin wide, Gerard goes.

~*~*~*~

“I wish you could have been there, it was fucking amazing.” Perched on the side of Mikey’s bed, Gerard tries yet again to convey what he’s seen, but, as good as he is with words, right now it’s impossible to fully explain it all the way he wants. “The lights and the drinks and oh God, the music. You need to hear that. When Ray got on stage I about shit my pants. He didn’t even say that he played. Just got up there.”

“That good?” Mikey asks, still as enthralled with Gerard’s stories as he was when Gerard started talking over an hour before.

“Better.” It’s all Gerard can say, even now it’s hard to reconcile Toro the medic with the person who strode on stage and owned the crowd with his playing. “He’s fucking amazing. Even the half mechs were dancing.”

“Fuck,” Mikey says on an out breath, and then. “And it was all played by hand? No tech involved?”

“None.” Gerard jumps to his feet, needing to move as he describes what happened again. “He’s got an internal portamp but apart from that it’s all him. Every single note was played by hand and just, fuck, I could have listened forever. Would have if it wasn’t for the raid.”

Mikey sits up further, wincing slightly as he leans against his stack of pillows. “Tell me about that again. You said the guards nearly got in.”

“They did, but only from the top side entrance, they didn’t find the main one.” Gerard runs his fingers through his hair, remembering the moment when Ray’s solo was interrupted by the wailing raid warning and two guards taking fire from above. “Everyone started to fight back and those guards were brought down. Then everything moved to outside.” Gerard stops talking, the urge to move gone completely as he remembers the crush of bodies, the chaos as everyone started to run for the exits. “Frank had told me to run, but the guards were surrounding the area, so when I got outside I hid.”

“Good,” Mikey says, never looking away from Gerard. “Those guards are brutal. They’d blast you just because.”

“They did to some people.” Slowly, Gerard walks back to the bed and sits, settling so he can rest against Mikey’s good side. “There was this girl. She had feathers in her hair. One of the guards blasted her in the back as she was running. I tried to help but she was gone.” And in fact, was gone the instant she took a kill shot direct to the back, but still, Gerard had run to her, needing to help. His chest tight, Gerard pictures feathers in a seeping pool of blood, a senseless death against a backdrop of blaster fire and smoke. “I closed her eyes after … and I don’t get it. She was a kid who was blasted for dancing. It makes no sense.”

“But you’re okay?” Mikey asks, as if even after all of this time, Gerard could be hiding some hurt. “You didn’t do something stupid like try and avenge her death with your bare hands.”

Gerard hesitates, and then admits. “I tried. I threw a bottle at one of the guards. It missed.”

“Probably just as well,” Mikey says, reaching out for Gerard, as if needing to touch. “You’re not allowed to die on this shithole of a planet. That’s not in our plans.”

“I told you, we’re not going to die at all.” Slowly, always careful of bumping Mikey too much, and, nearly as important just now, his poor squashed junk, Gerard pulls up his legs and lies next to Mikey, sharing his pillows. “This place isn’t that bad.”

Mikey turns his head, one eyebrow raised as he looks at Gerard. “Yeah?”

Mostly comfortable now, Gerard lets his mind drift, remembering the cavern and the beings who banded together to protect it. The look on Ray’s face as he faced down a guard, how Frank and Bob worked together to pull the injured to safety. Every single one displaying a passion to protect their planet. Which yeah, is a shit hole, but a shit hole that under the surface, is more like a gem. “This place. The cavern. It makes me wonder how much more is hidden away from the guards.”

“And you want to find out,” Mikey states, taking hold of Gerard’s hand and holding on. “I guess we’re not moving on anytime soon.”

“You don’t mind?” Gerard has to ask, because as intriguing as he finds this planet, he’s not about to stay if Mikey wants to move on. “I know you haven’t had the best time here and haven’t seen what I have. But....”

“But nothing,” Mikey cuts in, squeezing Gerard’s hand, and then simply says, “We’re staying.”

~*~*~*~

When, as a kid, Gerard was scanned and tagged for his future career, the medical profession ended up well down his list of results. Which was good, because Gerard had no desire to work in that sector. Even if the actual diagnosing and treatment was robotic based, with humanoids doing little but providing basic care, that was still too much for Gerard.

And that hasn’t changed now. Sure, he’s got a basic knowledge of field medicine and has no issues with looking after himself and Mikey if needed, but getting involved with blood, guts and meds on a basis beyond thinking that sometimes they look cool? No way. It’s one of the reasons Gerard’s fascinated with Ray, who seems to revel in the toughest medical cases and loves being able to help anyone injured or sick.

“Okay, I’m done.” Ray powers down his tablet, the holo image of a digestive tract disappearing as he leans back in his chair and stretches. “Don’t have seven stomachs, it just leads to seven times the issues.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Gerard says, efficiently folding another square of cloth before putting it into the portable sterilization unit he’s got positioned on a nearby bench. Pressing start, he reaches for another square and looks at Ray, trying to work out if all of his hours of research have revealed something useful. “Will you be able to help?”

“Probably. I’ll show what I found to Jamia and we’ll go visit the wastelands tomorrow. A home visit isn’t ideal but no way will they travel into the city.” Another stretch and Ray sits forward, his eyes widening as he sees the stack of sterile and packaged dressings piled at Gerard’s side. “You know you don’t have to do that. You must have been working for hours.”

“The same time as you,” Gerard points out, “and I wanted to help.”

“You already have, but you don’t have to,” Ray says. Placing his tablet safely out of the way, he focuses all of his attention on Gerard. “I’ve told you. You can both stay as long as you like, no strings attached. You don’t have to work or help to stick around.”

“Maybe,” Gerard allows, but the fact is, he wants to. While Gerard is no medical professional, he’s seen enough to know that the clinic is a lifeline to many, and that no matter how hard Ray, Frank, Jamia and Bob work, it’s never enough. There’s always some job that needs doing, even if that’s only sterilizing cloth squares to make into dressings. “But I like it here. We both do.”

Ray grins, wide and bright as he stands. “Good. We like having you here, too. Most people leave as soon as they can. Apparently living on cots in a semi derelict building isn’t a draw.”

“Then they’re stupid.” A last package put on the stack, Gerard stands, wincing at the pull of healing skin on his thigh. “This place is awesome.”

“Not a dusty shit hole?” Ray asks, his grin widening as he waits for Gerard’s response.

“Oh, it’s still a dusty shit hole.” That’s something that still stands, but Gerard can admit now that beyond that, he’s starting to like this planet and the people who live here, even if, often, he still can’t understand some of the species. “But it’s got a good scene, even if the guards are fucking insane.”

“They didn’t used to be so bad.” Ray starts walking, leading the way into the hallway with its row of empty chairs and dimly lit lights. “When I first got here they’d keep to the ports, but the more the economy collapsed the more the guards tried to take control. Now they want to take over completely.”

“Will they?” It’s something Gerard can’t imagine happening, not when the guards that he’s seen seem disorganized and more likely to fire at random than stick to a plan. “I mean, maybe they could take the city by force, but what about the rest of the country? Surely someone will fight back.”

“You’d think.” Ray sighs, his shoulders slumping as he talks. “But most of the planet is in decline, getting a job is almost impossible and with the lessening of spacetrades people are leaving in droves. There’s nothing for them here, and that means there’s nothing to fight for.”

As bleak as it is, it’s an explanation that makes sense, and Gerard knows if it wasn’t for meeting Ray and his friends, no way would he have stuck around either. Still, it seems wrong that the guards can try for power unopposed, and Gerard tries, and fails, to remember his distant planet history. “What about the rulers? Isn’t there an elected government here?”

“In the main cities there is. But unless you’re a legacy or have something they want, you’re not going to get into the domes.” Ray takes a sharp right, heading for the part of the building that’s used for personal quarters. “No one in there gives a shit about what happens outside. They never have.”

“I hate dome cities,” Gerard says, and he does. While the Earth dome cities don’t seem to be as rigid about mingling as the ones here, Gerard’s well experienced about being on the outside looking in. “My mom wanted us…. me, to apply for a place in the dome. I told her I’d rather eat shit than be monitored twenty four seven.”

“The Ameridome?” Ray asks, and at Gerard’s surprised look gives a small smile. “”Your accent’s messed up due to travelling for so long, but it’s still there. I got a place in that dome. I left when they wouldn’t accept the rest of my family.”

“Fuckers.” Gerard rubs at his arm, over the spot where his chip used to be. “So you decided to leave Earth altogether? What about your family? Oh god, they’re not dead are they? You didn’t decided to leave due to some tragic story.”

“No,” Ray says, his smile widening a little. “Last time I talked to them mom was cooking up a storm for my brothers. I don’t get to talk to them too often, only when conditions are right and the pirate bandwaves are strong, but they’re fine.”

“Good.” Relieved that he hasn’t prodded some hurt, Gerard thinks of his own family, how they looked the last time he saw them, tear-stained, but always supportive, backing Gerard and Mikey’s decisions always, even if that meant them running away. “And they’re happy with what you’re doing?” 

“Well, mom would prefer me to be on the same planet at least.” Ray’s smile fades, his gaze unfocused, as if right now he’s galaxies away. “But she knew I needed to get away, and that what I’m doing is important. This place and helping people and the music.”

“I get that,” Gerard says, and then, “The music?”

In response, Ray moves close to Gerard, rests his arm on his shoulder and says, “Baby, you’ve seen nothing yet.”

~*~*~*~

Eyeing the available bottles, Jamia hesitates a moment before picking up the sugar solution, squeezing some into her bowl of pre-soaked grain. Mixing the two together, she tastes a spoonful before sitting, taking the chair next to Gerard. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Gerard peers at the barely touched contents of his own bowl, which, even with the addition of sugar, still tastes like paste. “How do you even eat this?”

“You get used to it.” Jamia grins before eating a spoonful, seemingly enjoying the taste. “Pretend it’s cereal. Just, the kind that’s gloopy, tasteless and jiggles in the bowl.”

“Not helping.” Gerard pats at the grain with his spoon, watching it wobble. “So where’s Frank? And Ray and Bob. I’m not usually the first up.”

“You weren’t this time either,” Jamia says, indicating the stack of bowls and cups on the counter with a tilt of her head. “They’ve gone on a home visit to the wastelands. Bob and Frank are playing bodyguard.”

“This early?” Even the thought makes Gerard long for his bed, even if he’d just rolled out of it a few minutes before. 

“It’s the only time they can go, the conditions get too bad later,” Jamia says. Scooping up more grain, she eats another bite and then adds, “And this way Ray’s back to man the clinic later. He tries to be around at regular times, that way people know when to find him.”

“I wish I’d have known when to find him, or better still, where.” Even now, after days hanging with Ray and his friends, Gerard hasn’t forgotten the ache in his chest, the sheer frustration and terror as he looked for help when Mikey was so sick.”I thought I’d never find him, and no one would help.”

“Of course they did.” Jamia sets down her spoon, her full focus on Gerard. “Why do you think Frank turned up? Someone went and found him.”

“So why didn’t they tell me they knew Ray? Or give directions?” Frustration building again, Gerard tries to push back his anger, that someone would help, but in such a convoluted way. “Mikey could have died in that delay.”

“But he didn’t,” Jamia says simply, never looking away from Gerard. “You have to understand, people are paranoid here. You could have been a spy for the guards. No one was going to lead you to our door.”

“Because I looked like a spy.” Anger lingering, Gerard tells himself that being wary is a good thing, that what Ray and his friends have built here is something that needs protecting. It doesn’t help, it can’t when the fear of losing Mikey is still so close to the surface. 

Jamia reaches out, resting her hand on Gerard’s arm. “You looked like every other space hitcher who passes through these parts. But one that was terrified, it’s why Frank made the call and approached you. That you’d give him your bike cemented the fact you genuinely needed help.”

“I’d have given him everything I owned,” Gerard says, and jumps to his feet when he sees Mikey walk into the room. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was.” Mikey waves away Jamia’s offer of grain, instead sitting at the opposite side of the table, instantly reaching for Gerard’s cup of water when he pushes it over. “Now I’m not.”

“You should be.” Despite himself, Gerard walks around the table, hovering as he pushes back Mikey’s hair and casually feels his forehead. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I walked from my bed to here. I’m hardly exerting myself,” Mikey says, tilting his head so he can rest it against Gerard’s hand for a moment. “I’m fine. You know that. Ray told you that.”

“You’re still injured.” That’s something Gerard’s not going to let Mikey deny, even if he is a thousand times better than he was a few days before. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Water and grain-paste?” Mikey asks, and at Gerard’s nod, grins and says, “I’ll pass. If I have to force that stuff down at least here I can look for distractions.”

His hand still on Mikey’s shoulder, Gerard strokes his fingers over the side of Mikey’s neck, voice lowering as he says, “I could provide a distraction, I’d…..” and then trails off, heat coloring his cheeks when he realizes that Jamia is watching.

“No, go on. This is better entertainment than the morning pirate stations,” Jamia says, making no attempt to hide her grin, which only widens when Gerard pulls back his hand, as if Mikey’s skin is suddenly scalding hot. “You’re both adorable. How long have you been together?”

As questions go, it’s one they’ve been asked before, and one Gerard can easily answer. Even so, this time it feels wrong to be lying to Jamia, despite the fact it’s a lie that has to be told. “It’s been seven Earth years now. Mikey had a pre vocmatch placement in the records sector and I was on my leisure break before being chipped into my actual vocmatch. We met outside the records building and got talking. Mikey was eating a sandwich and I got hungry so he offered me half.”

“And he took it,” Mikey says, smiling fondly at Gerard. “And drank nearly all of my juice.”

“So I offered to replace it later. If he’d meet me after his shift.” As stories go, it’s one built on a lie, except, at heart it isn’t at all. Maybe that time in the courtyard wasn’t the first time they’d met, but it did happen. Just, it was Gerard meeting Mikey each day for his break period, always aware of the approaching vocmatch and more importantly, the personal match that would inevitably pull them apart. It’s why Gerard needed to spend every possible moment with Mikey, and why, they’d started planning to run. 

“I did meet him,” Mikey says, his smile replaced by something tender, love and affection apparent within every word. “We talked into the night, and every night after.”

“Because he was the one,” Gerard adds, and then, “I knew that from the start.”

Her breakfast forgotten, Jamia looks between Gerard and Mikey. “So you ran when you didn’t get matched?”

“Not at first,” Gerard says, and this is a part of the story that he doesn’t share as often, most hitchers asking for perfunctory details at best. “At first my family wanted me to agree to my match. I can’t blame them, no one wants their son to be tagged as delinquent and have to go into exile. But I said no. I didn’t love that assigned person, hell, I didn’t even know them. But I did love Mikey, from the first moment I saw him.”

“Good. You have to love someone to give up so much,” Jamia says, and again Gerard’s reminded of his suspicions, that Jamia and Frank have their own story.

“You and Frank. Did you run, too?” Gerard has to ask, and regrets doing so within seconds when Jamia stiffens, teeth biting into her lip as she blinks hard.

“We did,” Jamia says, waving away Gerard’s attempted apology. “No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time now, but sometimes it catches me out. Thinking of our families.”

Mikey sits back in his chest, resting his head against Gerard’s chest. “Your families knew each other?”

Jamia nods, says, “Yeah. Our moms met at the education building gates. They were there watching as I grew up with Frank and there watching when I fell in love with him. And they were there the day we both got matched to someone else. We didn’t run. Not like you two, but we did have to leave. Our families knew we were destined to be together, so sold off some possessions to give us off-planet tickets, and we haven’t seen them in person since.”

“The system sucks.” It’s something Gerard’s believed for a long time, that Earth would still survive without a population controlled solely by computers matching data. “People should be able to love who they want, and be with who they want.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Jamia glances at her bowl of grain, which has already started to harden, becoming more solid block than jello. “This needs more sugar.”

“It needs throwing away, or to be used to repair one of the walls,” Mikey says, laughing and leaning to one side when Jamia scoops up some grain and threatens to throw it. “I yield! That stuff could take out my eye.”

“It’s okay, Ray would put it back again,” Jamia says, dropping her spoon as she stands and heads for the sugar. Once at the counter, she picks up the bottle and looks over at Gerard and Mikey, says, “Running. Was it worth it?”

“Always,” Mikey says instantly, looking up so he can see Gerard. “I’ve never regretted a moment.”

“Not one,” Gerard agrees, and then, “If I had to, I’d do it all over again.”

And he means it.

~*~*~*~*~

Gerard has to admit that he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be, this isn’t any different to the many other times he’s gone out with Mikey. Except, those times were before Mikey nearly died. Sure, he’s okay now, with the wound on his side fully healed, but that doesn’t help. 

Gerard can still remember crouching over Mikey, willing him to live as Bob drove at speed back to the clinic, how Mikey was barely breathing, more dead than alive as Ray took charge and ushered Gerard away. They’re memories that won’t go, and Gerard’s seconds away from pushing Mikey back inside and locking the door.

“Nothing is going to happen to him.” Detaching from the group clustered close to the bikes and cruiser, Ray stands close to Gerard, his voice low as he talks. “I wouldn’t let him go if he wasn’t up to it, and this is a small gathering. Nothing like you went to before.”

“I know,” and Gerard does. He knows what Ray is saying -- and more importantly, believes it -- but still the worries remain. “What if there’s another riot? He could get blasted again.”

“He could,” Ray agrees, steady and calm as always as he faces Gerard. “We all could. The same way they could raid the clinic or take us out on the streets if they wanted. It’s the chances we take.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Gerard has to ask, even though, somehow, what Ray has just said does help a little. “That we all could be blasted at any moment?”

Ray drapes his arm over Gerard’s shoulder, a warm and solid presence as he urges them forward. “It’s how we play this game. There’s no point hiding away.”

“Instead you take us to mysterious places in the middle of the night,” Gerard says, distracted as he tracks Mikey as he gets onto his bike, taking in how he settles himself until he’s sitting comfortable, pants pulled tight at his thighs, boots planted against the dusty ground and smile wide as he talks to Frank. 

“Not mysterious, you just don’t know where the place is,” Ray says, barely suppressing a grin as he snaps his fingers in front of Gerard’s face. “And we have to go late, it’s the only time we can all leave the clinic, and for some reason everyone wants to come tonight.”

“Yeah, like we wouldn’t come watch when you’re doing a full show,” Frank says, and even through the darkness and haze of dust, Gerard can see how Frank’s rolling his eyes. “Face it, you’re a draw.”

“Me and the Lakasidik beer on tap,” Ray says, half accepting the compliment. “Which will be running out if we don’t get a move on.”

“It’s not us walking as slow as a three-legged mooswif,” Bob says, elbow resting against the open window of the cruiser and one hand on the wheel. “We could have been there by now.”

“I had to make sure the biogrowth cells were at the optimal temperature,” Ray says, paying no attention to the way Bob is revving the engine. “Are you coming with us or riding?”

“Riding, but with Mikey.” It’s an instant reaction, Gerard already planning to stick close to Mikey tonight, even if they are only going to a small show. “Or he could ride in the cruiser.”

“Somehow I don’t think that suggestion would go well,” Ray says, his voice pitched over the increasingly loud revving of the engine. “Just follow us, it isn’t far.”

“It was worth a try.” And that’s all it’s going to be, a suggestion given to Ray only. “I’ll see you there.” At Ray’s nod, Gerard hurries forward, shrugging at Mikey’s pointed look. “I’m going to ride with you. It’ll be less wear on my bike.”

“Because you haven’t ridden it forever anyway,” Mikey says, but already he’s shuffling forward, balancing with his feet as he puts on his helmet.

“Which is why it needs a break.” Quickly, Gerard detaches his own helmet from his bike, checking the security measures are still engaged before he takes the few steps back to Mikey. “Plus, we haven’t ridden together for a while.”

“True,” Mikey allows, and while Gerard can’t see his full face now, he can see Mikey’s eyes and the slight lines that suggest that he’s smiling. They’re something Gerard’s mapped for a while now, the tiny changes that happen and suggest the passing of time. It’s something Gerard loves, and when he sits behind Mikey he instinctively slides forward, fitting together in the way they’ve done always.

“Ray says to follow them,” Gerard says, and while he doesn’t need the support, he wraps his arms around Mikey’s chest, holding on tight. “You ready to go?”

“Always,” Mikey says in reply.

~*~*~*~

If the last gathering he attended was a feast for the senses, this is more like a casual spread. Already Gerard feels at home as he sinks into a giant cushion, one made with some kind of gel that molds to his body. Relaxed, he stretches his legs, drink in one hand and stomach full as takes in the room. Unlike the cavern, this is something being-made, a building that’s shielded by tech and various alarms. But despite the lack of immediate impact, Gerard can’t help looking around, taking in the artwork on the walls and the shimmering holo lights that dance on the ceiling. 

“Ray should be playing soon,” Jamia says, letting herself drop down onto a cushion. “Frank and Bob are helping set up, maybe even play if Ray gets his way. Not that Frank needs much persuading.”

“They play too?” Surprised, Gerard pushes himself up, the gel disconcertingly moving beneath him. “So what, they’re some kind of medic band?”

Mikey looks over from his own cushion. “Frank plays guitar and Bob drums. They don’t practice at the clinic because it can get loud. They’re good though, fucking awesome in fact.”

For a moment Gerard stares, but he doesn’t ask how Mikey knows. There’s no point, it’s just what he does. But Gerard does want to know one thing, and he asks, “You’ve heard them?”

“A recording,” Mikey says, and then, “there’s not much to do when you’re stuck in a bed. At least, not when you’re in a bed and feel sick, so once we’d burned through some pirates of old Earth archive movies I helped Frank with some arranging.”

Which, of course he did. And, no matter how often he’s seen it, Gerard remains impressed with the way Mikey stealthily forms friendships. 

“Ray did consider officially forming a band once,” Jamia says, her attention torn between Gerard and Mikey and the small stage, where Frank is setting up booster sound boxes. “He’s good enough for it. They all are. But there’s just not enough time.”

“He had to choose between music and medicine.” To Gerard it sounds like an unfair choice, especially as he’s coming to realize just how much Ray loves them both. 

Jamia nods. “It’s why we make sure he gets out at least once a week. There’s always something to do in the clinic, but Ray needs to de-stress too, and that means music.”

“Which the guards are trying to shut down.” To Gerard it makes no sense. Even after discussing the situation he can’t understand why the guards need so much power and why any gatherings are bad. 

“They’re trying, but they won’t succeed,” Jamia says, getting back to her feet when Frank waves in their direction and hold up one finger. “They’re coming on. You’ll need to stand up if you want to see.”

It’s a comment that’s unneeded. Already Gerard’s getting to his feet and holding out his hand to pull Mikey up, despite the roll of Mikey’s eyes he gets in response.

“I know, I know, you’re fine,” Gerard says, gripping Mikey’s hand and tugging. “Indulge me.”

Mikey doesn’t respond, he doesn’t need to, the look on his face saying it all. Still, it’s nothing Gerard hasn’t seen before, and he keeps hold of Mikey’s hand for more than he needs to, squeezing once before they follow Jamia to where she’s claimed a space against the railing that surrounds the dipped dancefloor. 

“It looks like they’re all playing,” Jamia says, pushing herself up on tiptoes as she tries to see backstage. “They haven’t done this for a long time. Too long.”

About to ask why, Gerard stops when Frank runs onto the stage and spins, the guitar he’s got looped over his shoulder leaving behind beams of light as he does so. Against that foreground of ribboned light, Bob suddenly appears, his hair hidden by a bandana and holding aloft drum sticks as he and his kit are antigraved in space. Which leaves Ray, and while his entrance isn’t so flashy, Gerard still can’t look away as Ray struts into view, a guitar slung on his back and owning the small stage.

“Holy fuck,” Mikey says, drawing out the words.

“I know, right?” It’s what Gerard’s been trying to describe, but now he’s seeing Ray once again, he knows there’s no way to accurately capture his stage presence in words. It’s like Ray’s added an extra layer of vitality as he claims the small space, beaming at the audience as they reach forward and yell out his name.

“Hi. Ray stops talking at the explosion of sound, the beings on the dancefloor pushing to see better. “No pushing. I want to play not fix broken tentacles.” As jokes go it’s mild, but it’s also enough to calm down the audience, all of whom hang onto Ray’s every word. “We haven’t played together for a while, so sorry if we’re rusty.”

Without another word, Ray glances at Frank and Bob, beaming as they both signal they’re ready, and then, perfectly in sync, they start playing. It’s not a song Gerard knows, he’s not even sure if Ray’s singing in Earth standard, but that doesn’t matter. Every word feels right, every beat of the drums on point. The railing digging into his stomach, Gerard yells and thumps his hands in the air, dizzy as Ray, Bob and Frank seem to take in the energy of the room and throw it right back. 

“I told you. I fucking told you,” Gerard shouts toward Mikey, loving the way that he looks right now, his skin flushed and eyes bright as he jumps along to the beat. As contrasts go this is one Gerard revels in, that this is Mikey fully alive, all traces of sickness and imminent death washed away. 

The urge to touch building, Gerard slips behind Jamia, whose attention remains fully on the stage and moves close to Mikey, reaching out and brushing his hand.

Mikey dips his head slightly so his mouth is against Gerard’s, and says simply, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Gerard responds, his skin goose-bumped as the volume of the music increases, Ray giving his all to the song as Bob pushes the beat and Frank whirls over the stage. Everything is light and sound and Gerard feels like heat is pulsating over his skin as he closes the distance between them.

Bodies pressed together, Gerard brushes his mouth against Mikey’s, and right now it feels like they’re one. Connected in a way that’s unbreakable as the music swells around them, and Gerard deepens the kiss and holds on.

~*~*~*~

“There’s something wrong, everyone is restless,” Bob announces, dropping his bag on the table as he takes the mug of water Frank hands over. Draining the mug, Bob sets it down next to his bag and looks over his shoulder toward the main door. “I don’t know what, but it’s going to be big.”

“Do you think we need to start packing?” Ray asks, his sandwich pushed to one side as he stands and abortively drops his hand, as if he was about to run his hand through his tied-back hair. 

Bob clenches his fists, frowning as he looks back at that door once again. “There’s no visible signs of trouble, but something’s not right. Everyone I talked to felt it.”

“I could go out and ask around,” Frank says, but Ray shakes his head, never looking away from Bob.

“No. If Bob thinks something is wrong it is. We should start breaking this place down.”

“Everything?” Jamia asks, and Ray hesitates, no doubt thinking of all of the equipment and supplies that fill every habitable room of the building. 

“Maybe just the surplus for now, we can keep the essentials up and running and break them down if needed,” Ray says, sounding sure now as he looks around the kitchen, meeting everyone’s gaze in turn. “Mikey, Gerard, can you two bag up some of the food? Just enough for us all to last a few days. Hopefully it won’t be needed but better to be safe than sorry.”

Jamia heads toward the door to the public part of the clinic. “I’ll start packing up the spare lab stuff.”

“And I’ll make sure the vehicles are fully juiced,” Frank says, taking a moment to kiss Jamia on the cheek before hurrying outside.

“Guess that’s you and me with the rest,” Ray says to Bob, and then, with a sigh, “Hopefully nothing happens. But we’ve been burned with less warning before.”

“Yeah,” Bob agrees, and again, looks toward the main door. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re not the only one,” Ray says, and silently, Gerard agrees.

~~~~

The raid happens later that day.

Finally starting to relax after being on edge since morning, Gerard jumps when he hears a loud bang, his heart pounding at the sudden sound of blaster fire and yelled out commands.

“Everyone inside come out with your hands up! Now!”

“Everyone, out of the back door, now!” Ray runs into the room, supplies falling out of a half-open bag as he pulls out a blaster, aiming it toward the main door. “Go! I’ll keep the guards back.”

Gerard wants to refuse, to stand side by side with Ray and face down the guards, but Bob grabs hold of his arm and pulls.

“You’ll just get in his way,” Bob says, his fingers digging in as he runs through the clinic. Already it’s changed from before, glass exploding from behind the boarded up windows while smoke fills the hallway. “It won’t take them long to find the courtyard, we need to get out now.” His stomach churning, Gerard looks back when he hears a piercing yell, but Bob is relentless, pulling them forward as something explodes from behind them. “No stopping. When we get out take one of the bikes and get away from here as fast as you can. If Mikey’s there take him with you, or you ride with him. Ray’ll need something fast to get away.”

“Okay.” Gerard runs, his eyes streaming and chest tight as the smoke thickens, his lungs burning as he tries to breathe. Thankful that they’ve at least talked a little about a possible escape, he matches Bob’s pace as they blindly run outside, to air that slightly less smoke-filled.

“Gee,” Mikey yells, pulling away from Frank who’s been holding him back. “Ride with me. My bike’s ready.”

Still coughing, Gerard spits and waits a moment as Mikey gets onto his bike, his helmet abandoned as he starts the engine. A last look back at the clinic, and Gerard climbs on behind him, holding on with trembling hands, hoping desperately that any moment, Ray’s about to run out of the door.

“Mikey, follow the cruiser, I’m waiting for Ray,” Bob says, catching the blaster that Frank throws out of the cruiser. Engaging the power, Bob stands waiting, a frozen figure amongst the swirling smoke, and never looking away from the door. “Go!”

“I can’t, not without Ray.” It’s Frank that’s shouting, white-faced where he’s sitting in the passenger seat of the cruiser, Jamia tense beside him. “We need to go get him.”

“That’s not what we planned,” Bob yells, his expression briefly softening as he looks Jamia and Frank’s way. “You need to go.”

“We all need to go!” Within an explosion of more smoke and blaster fire, Ray runs out of the building, firing behind him as he jumps on the bike and waits for Bob to follow. “Everyone waiting here wasn’t the plan.”

“We weren’t going to leave you,” Frank says, hanging out of the cruiser so he can adds his own blaster fire to the mix, grinning wildly when he takes out a guard with a blast to the chest. 

“You were supposed to leave me if I got left behind,” Ray says, swiping away the blood that runs from a cut on his head. “But we’ll talk about that later. Just go!”

They do, Jamia taking the lead as she drives the cruiser through the pile of trash and wood panels that hides the back of courtyard. Followed by Mikey, his hair flowing back and tickling Gerard’s face as they screech out into the open, Mikey swearing when he sees a convoy of guards heading their way, with masks on and blasters held high.

“If we don’t survive this…. “ Mikey starts to say, but Gerard cuts him off.

“We will.” They have to. They’ve gone through too much to die now. Flattening himself against Mikey, Gerard provides his own makeshift shield and says, “I told you. You’re not going to die on this shit hole of a planet.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Mikey says, his words barely audible over the sound of blasterfire around them. 

All Gerard can say is, “Deal.”

~*~*~*~

As hideouts go, the one they’re holed up could be considered in the top end of the genre. With multiple useable rooms and actual running water, the inside has been made comfortable with bedding on the floor and basic food on the shelves. The problem is, as comfortable as it is inside, the outside sucks -- big time.

Located in the middle of the wastelands, most times it’s impossible to breathe outside without a respirator, and it’s so hot during sun up that any unprotected skin starts to burn within seconds. Gerard hates it. He hates that the lack of respirators means he spends most of his time indoors, and that when he does get to go out when the dust clouds die down, he’s instantly filthy, sweating through his clothes as dirt coats his skin.

All Gerard wants to do is take a walk in the clean air. Or to be cool for once. Hell, if it got him out of this place he’d even go with Ray and Jamia as they travel the wastelands, providing medical care while gathering intel. Except, they’ve already got Bob and Frank for that, and it’s not like Gerard could even help when he can’t understand a word of the language. 

“Frank managed to tap into a pirate band,” Mikey says, wandering into the room, a tablet held in his hands. Above it an image flickers, some kind of white armored figure that’s been frozen mid-step. “He downloaded some shit. It’s good stuff.” 

Gerard tries to dredge up some interest, but the last thing he wants right now is to sit and watch movies made back in the dark ages. “I’ll watch later.” Gerard paces the few steps to the window and peers outside, where nothing has changed. It’s still dusty, it’s still hot and Gerard’s about to go out of his mind. 

Mikey watches for a long moment, then says, “If you’ve changed your mind and want to go, that’s okay. We’ll go to that port Ray mentioned, a few cycles and we’d be back on the hitch circuit.”

Gerard turns away from the window, looking at Mikey. “Do you want to leave?”

“I like travelling with you, I’d go if you want to,” Mikey says, and Gerard knows that he means it. If Gerard said that he wanted to leave, Mikey would be packing their things and readying the bikes, happy to go anywhere as long as Gerard remained at his side. The thing is though, despite the conditions, right now Mikey looks settled, more than he has done since they left Earth. He also looks happy, with friends he’s known for more than a few days, regular, if sucky food, and a bed of his own, even if it is a pile of blankets arranged on the floor. 

There’s also the fact that there’s a feeling of change in the air. Gerard doesn’t know this planet well, but he wants to. He wants to be here as the inhabitants start to fight back, when the messages Ray and Jamia are spreading take hold, as more and more beings come out of the shadows ready and willing to claim back their city. 

It’s a change that’s already rumbling, instigated due to the horror of guards attacking the clinic, a place that was previously ignored -- and Gerard wants to be here to see that. But only, if Mikey wants to stay, too.

“I know you like travelling with me,” Gerard says, pushing the point. “But do you want to stay?”

Again, Mikey watches Gerard, neither of them speaking until, eventually, Mikey says, “Yes.”

“Then we’re staying.” Relieved, Gerard looks back out of the window, at a horizon that’s nothing but clouds of grey dust. “But I’m still going fucking crazy in here.”

“You could finish those records for Ray,” Mikey suggest, his mouth twitching up in a smile. “There’s only a couple of thousand left to input. Or you could go soak some grain. I know how much you like that.”

“Fuck that. I can’t believe that shit survived when we lost all of the good food,” Gerard says, glaring at the offending bags of grain that are stacked in a corner. “We should have packed those up last.”

“Maybe,” Mikey says, and sets down the tablet, the holo image flickering out of existence. “The others won’t be back until after sundown. They’re going to that meeting after doing the rounds.”

Gerard stares, wondering why Mikey’s repeating what Gerard already knows. “I know that. I was here this morning before they all left.”

“Yeah, I was here too,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes. “My point is. They won’t be back for a long time.”

“Any my point is, I know that,” Gerard says, wondering how they’ve ended up trapped in this circular conversation. “I should have gone with them. It’s not like I need actual words. I’m good at sign language.”

“Even if the being you’re talking to has claws instead of hands?” Mikey asks, looking intrigued as he brings up his own hands. “You’d probably end up telling someone you slept with their mother.”

“Or their dog.” Gerard laughs, quickly making a dog shape with his hands, that is, if the dog had eight legs and two thumbs for a head. “That would be gross, even if it meant I could try knotting.”

Mikey stares. “One, I’d say I can’t believe you’ve thought about that, but I know you. Two. Obviously a wolf would be better. And three. What the fuck are you thinking about dog knotting for when I’m trying to seduce you?”

“This is you trying to seduce me?” If so, Gerard isn’t impressed, he can’t be when all Mikey’s been doing is talking about time. “I’ve seen you seduce people. This isn’t it.”

“Because I’m not used to doing it to you,” Mikey says, emphasizing his point with a swipe of both hands. “You normally know when I want sex.”

It’s true, Gerard does know. It’s hard not to when he knows Mikey so well, but at the same time, as much as Gerard’s been missing that part of their relationship, Mikey’s missing a big point. “You nearly died. Sex and near death doesn’t mix.”

“Except I’m fine now.” Mikey stalks forward, never looking away from Gerard as he backs up, stopping when he hits the wall, Mikey pressed close, his thigh pushed between Gerard’s legs. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I’m not sick. So take me to bed already.”

“I can do that,” Gerard says, and as much as he loves being crowded like this. When he can feel Mikey breathe, can see his throat move as he swallows, Gerard wants more. He wants to taste, to touch, to have Mikey spread out before him and wanting, and as wants go, it’s so powerful Gerard’s grateful that Mikey’s keeping him upright. 

It’s been too long since they’ve had sex. Hell, it’s been too long since Gerard’s even jerked off. It just wasn’t right when Mikey was so sick, and after, Gerard’s been afraid to push too hard. Like, if he tried to start something with Mikey he’d have some kind of a relapse, which would suck if Gerard had to explain that Mikey collapsed with Gerard’s dick in his ass. Even the thought is traumatic, and for all of a moment Gerard starts to lose interest, until Mikey grinds up against him and says, “Fucking get on with it already.”

“You’re fucking bossy.” Gerard’s duty bound to point that out, even if it feels like every drop of blood in his body has zoomed straight to his dick. Abstinence and seeing Mikey so demanding is a heady combination, and Gerard’s hands are shaking as he fists the back of Mikey’s t-shirt in one hand, and pulls him close for a kiss. Which is great, which is so fucking fantastic that Gerard’s light-headed as he pushes, still kissing as they take stumbling steps toward the make-shift bed.

Thankful it’s close by, Gerard can feel spit slide from the corner of his mouth, which should be fucking gross, but isn’t at all. It can’t be when he can feel the scrape of Mikey’s stubble against his skin, the sharp points of his teeth, the sound he makes as they finally hit the pile of blankets, and Gerard uses his body weight to pull them both down, landing with a dull thud.

“I think you’ve broken my ass,” Mikey says, the validity of his complaint compromised by the way he’s already wiggling to get out of his clothes, one boot already half off and his belt unfastened.

“How do you even do that?” It’s something Gerard’s never understood, because sure, he’s quick at getting out of his own clothes, but Mikey’s insanely quick, like some kind of clothes ninja. “I haven’t even unfastened my boots.”

“That’s because you’re old and slow.” Mikey grins, satisfied when his second boot goes flying and he pushes himself up on hips and his feet, wiggling out of his tight pants. “It’s a sad thing, soon you’ll be wearing a moomu and slippers.”

“Slippers are very comfortable.” At least they used to be, when Gerard used to try on his mom’s pink fluffy mules. “And I’d rock a moomu.”

Pants gathered around his ankles, Mikey shakes his feet until he’s left lying in his t-shirt only, which, considering it’s pushed up to his chest, means he’s hardly covered at all. “You could wear it along with your helmet, you’d look like some kind of superhero.”

“Commando Dork,” Gerard says, and for a moment he has to stop getting undressed just to look, taking in the lines of Mikey’s body, the faint lingering scar on his side, how unselfconscious he is under Gerard’s gaze. It’s something Gerard’s done always, innocent at first, and then later, more blatant when Mikey was long past being a kid and they’d eased together in a way that always felt right. 

Mikey’s everything Gerard wanted right there for the taking, disheveled and eager, his gaze fond as he looks up at Gerard, want overlain with obvious love. “I’m still waiting.”

“You’re still impatient.” Finally, Gerard kicks off his boots, and within seconds has shimmied out of his pants, underwear and t-shirt. Which leaves him wearing his socks, and for a moment he considers just leaving them on, but really, there’s no excuse to have sex wearing socks only, even if Mikey is looking impatient, drumming his fingers on the blankets as he waits. “Okay, done.”

Socks off and flung to the side of the room, Gerard gets onto his knees, giving no notice before he grabs hold of Mikey, and flips him onto his side, and then onto his stomach.

Mikey pushes up on his elbows and looks back at Gerard. “I’ll give you points for spontaneity, but I still don’t have a self-lubricating asshole.”

“I thought I told you to look into that,” Gerard says, lightly flicking Mikey on the back of the head. “Now shut up already.”

In response, Mikey drops back down, head pillowed on his bent arms and totally relaxed until Gerard pushes apart his legs and then lies down between them, positioning himself and getting comfortable when Mikey says, “You do realize I haven’t showered in forever?”

“And?” Gerard wiggles closer, resting his head on the swell of Mikey’s ass. “I might like tongue-fucking sweat from your ass.”

Mikey laughs softly, but Gerard can also feel the way he shudders in response, Mikey’s balls visible, tight as he opens his legs even further in an obvious invitation. “In that case, go for it.”

Gerard intends to. One hand on Mikey’s hip for support, Gerard cranes his head, and licks a long stripe over the delicate skin between dick and ass, and instantly does so again, enjoying the way Mikey jumps in response. Gerard loves the response, that even after all of this time he can make Mikey gasp, his legs trembling as Gerard licks again, going further back this time, his tongue pushing slightly inside -- and Mikey’s right. He is sweaty, dust trapped along with the sweat and other body fluids, but Gerard loves it. He loves the taste and rawness of the action, never going deep, but teasing until Mikey’s moaning with each touch. 

Each jerked response, each broken sound goes straight to Gerard’s dick, and no way is he going to last. Even now he’s barely holding on, and he feels like he’s a teenager again as he pushes himself up on his knees and crawls over Mikey’s body, letting himself down and positioning himself so he can nestle his dick in the crease of Mikey’s ass.

“Gee.” Mikey’s clutching the blankets with both hands, his face turned to the side so Gerard can see how his mouth is open, his cheeks flushed as he says, “Do it.”

“Are you sure?” As much as he craves this, his whole body tense as Gerard forces himself to stay still, he has to ask the question. Needing this last validation that Mikey really is okay. 

“I’m sure. A thousand percent fucking sure,” Mikey says, and instantly Gerard’s moving, pushing up on his knees and positioning his dick, his whole body overheated as he pushes inside. And as always it’s good, it’s fucking fantastic, as they fit together perfectly, moving as one.

There’s no way that Gerard’s going to last, but that doesn’t matter. It’s not about that. It’s about them being together, about Mikey reaching back, his hand on Gerard’s knee, clutching on as Gerard pushes in deep, his rhythm perfect at first until it isn’t at all. When everything is too much and Gerard’s barely able to breathe as he gasps for air, his eyes closed and heart thundering, until finally -- finally -- he tips over the edge.

~*~*~*~

In the years that he’s been running, Gerard’s never actually forgotten what it’s like to live in a group. It would be impossible to do so when so often he and Mikey end up travelling with other hitchers, or sleeping in places where hitchers would gather.

It’s why it’s second nature to listen to and tell stories, to learn to live alongside a variety of species, many of whom don’t even speak the same language. What Gerard had forgotten, though, is what it’s like living with a group of people who you both trust and like.

Right now, this safehouse feels like home, which is stupid, because Gerard’s been here all of a few days, and more than that; sometime soon, if things don’t work out here, he could be running with Mikey again. It’s just how it is, what they have to do while their name is still flagged back on Earth.

“Don’t think so hard, you’ll break something,” Frank says, dropping to the ground next to Gerard. “Unless you’re thinking of what you’re making us for dinner, in which case, carry on.”

Gerard grins, says, “I could open a few cans I guess. Serve the contents cold with a side of sliced grain.”

“In that case, I’ll pass.” Frank stretches out on the ground, back against a pile of supplies and legs crossed at the ankle. Comfortable, he waits a few moments and then looks directly at Gerard. “So, what are you really thinking about?”

Gerard doesn’t want to reply. If he does it means this is real, that soon he could be leaving this place and running once again with Mikey. And as much as Gerard loves Mikey, loves _being_ with Mikey, he’s going to miss the others if they do run. 

“Gerard?” Frank prompts, and while he still radiates relaxation, he’s also staring directly at Gerard, taking in every fleeting expression. “You know you can talk to me, right? Or to any of us. You’re part of the group now.”

“That’s the problem.” Agitated, Gerard sits up straighter, bringing up his legs so he can wrap his arms around his knees. “I want to stay here, to see if the changes you’ve started grab hold. But I keep thinking how there’s always someone after me and Mikey. If we get caught and a DNA check done it’s a trip back to Earth and game over, and more trouble for you all.”

“So don’t get caught,” Frank says, as if the answer is simple. “Be careful, but you know, even if you do get caught, we’ll come and break you out. We like a good conflict.”

Gerard has to laugh, enjoying Frank’s gleeful expression, as if even now he’s itching to go start a riot or put some of their new plans into place. “I do know, but it’s too risky.”

Serious now, Frank says, “You need to stop running sometime. I know refusing matches is a big thing back on Earth, and yeah, you’ll be on the databases for unauthorized off-planet travel, but they can’t digitally chase you forever.”

It’s something Gerard’s thought about often, that at some point his name and Mikey’s will be cleared of all charges, and they’ll be able to live together without fear. Except, there’s one important piece of information that Frank’s missing, the one that bumped charges from level two up to a five. “They can if you’re charged with refusing a match alongside taking an unauthorized match that’s indecent and banned.”

“You mean Mikey?” Frank asks, and reaches out as Gerard scrambles to his feet, needing to get away before he sees the disgust in Frank’s eyes.

“I mean my brother,” Gerard says, and runs from the room.

~*~*~*~

Dust-coated and thirsty, Gerard stops walking when he finishes a looping circuit and ends up next his bike. Despite being sheltered by the safehouse wall, and being stood next to Mikey’s bike and the cruiser, by now, all three are a uniform grey, barely able to be seen in the dark. Wiping his hand across the body of his bike, Gerard reveals a slash of scarlet paint, which is instantly covered again with the next gust of hot wind.

“Gerard?” Gerard looks up from his bike and sees Mikey. Dressed in one of Ray’s old hoodies that covers his hands, Mikey’s got a bandana covering his mouth and nose and his eyes are streaming, creating clean lines that cut through the dust on his face.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Gerard says, concern rising, because even if Mikey’s been better for a while, Gerard still can’t help being worried. “I thought you were helping Bob fix his tech.”

“I was until Frank told me you’d ran off,” Mikey says, and walks closer, the wind catching hold of his hair so it whips forward into his face. “What happened?”

For a moment Gerard considers trying for a mistruth, but there’s no point. Even if Mikey did believe it -- which he won’t -- Frank would know different. It’s why Gerard admits, “Frank. I told him. About us.”

“You told him we were brothers?” Mikey asks, but despite the fact he should be angry that Gerard’s messed this up, all Mikey unexpectedly says is, “Good.”

“It’s not good.” Gerard knows that it isn’t. The truth about their relationship is one of the reasons they had to run in the first place, and why they’re going to have to run now. “He knows, Mikey. He’ll tell everyone and we’ll have to go.”

For a long time Mikey doesn’t answer, and Gerard’s started to think what he’s saying has sunk in when Mikey says, “You know what they said back on Earth wasn’t true. I don’t give a shit if you’re older. You didn’t seduce me.”

“It’s not about that,” and it isn’t. Gerard knows what he’s got with Mikey is a two way thing, something lasting and true, but that doesn’t mean others agree. “Brothers can’t be a match. It’s one of the fundamental rules.”

“Fuck the rules.” Mikey moves even closer, so he’s toe-to-toe with Gerard. “The rules didn’t match Frank and Jamia, and they wouldn’t have matched me and you even if we weren’t related. The rules fucking suck, and they’re outdated and wrong.”

“They still count.” Gerard feels he has to make that point, to be the practical older brother even though, right now, all he wants to do is agree. “If we get caught we’ll be jailed. I’ll never see you again.”

“So we won’t get caught,” Mikey says, and takes hold of Gerard’s hands. Holding on, he leans in, so his mouth is millimeters from Gerard. “If you want to run, I’ll run. Where you go, I go. But give them a chance. We’re a part of something here. We agreed to stay. Don’t give that up now.”

“And if they say we’re disgusting?” Gerard says, his stomach aching as he imagines that reaction.

“Then I’d punch them all and run away. Or try and punch them and get pole axed by Jamia.” Mikey closes the last little distance, his mouth pressed against Gerard’s for a kiss. Gerard can taste dust, dry and gritty as Mikey deepens the kiss for moment, from something tender to hard and needy. Something that reminds Gerard that, whatever happens, Mikey will be by his side always. Then Mikey pulls back and says, “But they won’t say that.”

All Gerard can say is, “I hope so,” and then, “We should go and find out.”

~~~~

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Gerard says, and then corrects, when Mikey squeezes his hand. “We’ve got something to tell you.” 

As one, everyone looks up from where they’re sorting supplies, and Gerard is torn between wishing he’d done this one by one, and being relieved once he says this it’s all over. 

“We told you we ran from Earth because we didn’t get matched, and that we’ve been hitching and running ever since. Well, that wasn’t the whole truth.” Gerard stops talking and pulls in a deep breath, relieved that Mikey’s right at his side, backing him always. “Mikey.... Mikey’s my brother. My biological blood brother.”

“Told you,” Jamia says, looking satisfied at she looks over at Bob. “You owe me a week’s night duty when we set up the new clinic.”

“What?” Gerard looks around, at Jamia who’s smiling now, and Bob who’s scowling right back at her. At Ray who seems unconcerned, and finally, at Frank, who isn’t disgusted at all. “You knew?”

“You look alike,” Jamia says, and then, “I spent a lot of time looking at Mikey when he was so sick. You’ve got the same bone structure and eyes.”

“I still can’t see it,” Bob grumbles, looking between Mikey and Gerard. “But fine, you win. These idiots are brothers.”

“And you don’t care?” Gerard can’t help asking, even when internally he’s telling himself to shut up, that giving people a chance to be negative is stupid. 

Ray puts aside a box of antibiotic gel packs that he’s been counting, his whole attention on Gerard. “I was going to ask if you loved him, but a blind molerat could see that you do. So no, I don’t care. Why should I when it’s a consensual, loving relationship?”

Frank grins, looking delighted as he says, “He’s telling the truth. That’s why he invited 892sYoelo over for dinner when Bob was dating zie.”

“892sYoelo?” Mikey asks, his mouth curving into a smile as if Frank’s grin is infectious.

“Bob’s steady for a while. Zie was a Bloopenhus with the most amazing tentacles,” Jamia says, her own smile wide. “Bob was walking bow-legged for months.”

“This is your fault.” Bob points at Frank, his frown deepening. “Always bringing up 892sYoelo and my sex life.”

Frank waves his hand, trying to look offended, but failing completely when he can’t repress laughter. “No one mentioned sex until you. But it’s okay, I know you must miss zie. I’ll take you to the pleasure rooms when we’ve got time. I hear the tentacle beds are on special. Ten sessions for the price of eight.”

“I hate you,” Bob says, grabbing a gel dressing which he throws at Frank’s head. “I’m going to put you outside in the dust.”

“And give him lung lock again? I don’t think so.” Ray shakes his head, sounding stern at first, but then smiles and adds. “I recommend a dip in the tub. It’ll cool him down, too.”

“Excellent idea.” Bob gives Ray a thumbs up, and then jumps to his feet, chasing after Frank who’s already running. Not that he’ll get far, this safehouse is too small and Bob too determined, and Gerard would look forward to hearing the inevitable splash, except....

“That’s it? That’s all you’re all going to say?” Gerard can’t understand it. Not after spending so long running from people who don’t get that his love for Mikey isn’t wrong, but something that feels right. 

“What do you want us to say?” Ray’s smile fades, but despite that, he still doesn’t look mad or disgusted. In fact, he looks like he does always, calm, understanding and friendly, as if his opinion of Mikey and Gerard hasn’t changed in the slightest. “That what you’re doing isn’t legal? Yeah, it isn’t back on Earth. But this isn’t Earth, and everything we do as a group is illegal. And we’re not going to stop.”

“Told you.” Mikey tightens his grip on Gerard’s hand. “We don’t have to be alone now, Gee. We’ve got friends.”

“Too right you do,” Jamia says, neatly stepping to one side as Frank and Bob run through the room. “Good friends.”

“Always,” Ray says, and this time, Gerard believes him.

Believes that, even if he’s still running with Mikey, now they’re doing so with friends at their side.

Believes that, finally, he and Mikey have found a new home.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for turps' 'Beyond the Dark Horizon'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/949073) by [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/pseuds/turlough)




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